


Perfect Storm

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Divorce, F/M, New York, Wedding, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: After a messy divorce, Hermione moves to New York City, in hopes of starting over. Her new beginning doesn't turn out exactly how she had planned, though. Two years later, she finds herself traveling back to England for the first time so she can be Maid of Honor at Harry and Ginny's wedding. When she arrives, she's shocked to find that the Best Man is not her ex-husband. Even more shocking, she finds herself slowly warming up to her old bully.*Contains sexually explicit scenes*





	1. Chapter 1

**May 2003**

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Hermione debated, for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. She anxiously stared at her open suitcases and chewed on her bottom lip. She had already unpacked them, only to repack them, three separate times in the week leading up to her trip.

“You’re going and you know it,” Lizzie scolded, from the armchair. She gently stroked Crookshanks’ head, while firmly nodding hers. The ginger cat swished his tail towards Hermione, as if to say ‘Get on with it already’.

“But what if-“

“Enough with the what ifs Hermione!” Lizzie cried, making Crookshanks jump. The cat shot Hermione’s friend, and co-worker, an annoyed look before retreating to his bed in the corner. “You are going to this wedding. You’re going to smile, have fun, and make your ex husband go out of his mind with jealousy over how gorgeous you are and how amazing your life is without him.”

Hermione choked out a sarcastic laugh. Gorgeous and amazing were not the first words that came to mind, to describe her post married life. Anxious, lonely, scarred- those were more apt words for her condition. But, she hid it well. The beauty of New York City was that everyone knew how to shut up and stay out of each other’s business. For the most part, it was live and let live, and Hermione appreciated that in more ways than one.

“I definitely think you need to get laid, too,” Lizzie added, her eyes evilly gleaming. “Find a nice no-maj that’ll fuck your brains out and make you forget all about Roy.”

“Ron,” Hermione corrected, shaking her head. “And I think sex is the last thing I need at the moment.”

“Au contraire mon ami! A night of meaningless sex is the first thing you need!” Lizzie protested. “When was the last time a male hand has touched you?”

Hermione dropped a pair of knickers into her suitcase and contemplated the question. “David, two years ago,” Hermione answered defeatedly.

“And what happened there?”

Hermione exhaled loudly and exclaimed, “He copped a feel and the next day told me he was gay!”

“I rest my case,” Lizzie concluded, resting back into the chair. “Those dresses we picked out the other day will with help with your quest for sex. Especially that slinky little black number.”

Hermione answered with silence. She tossed the last few pairs of shorts and tank tops into the second suitcase. Not wanting to overestimate the fickle English weather, she added an extra pair of jeans and two sweaters to the mix. With a wave of her wand, the suitcase lids snapped shut with a sharp finality. Hermione pursed her lips and tentatively reached out to them.

“If you unpack them again, I swear to Merlin that I will hex you into the next century,” Lizzie threatened. “They’re your best friends and they’re finally getting married. You’re their maid of honor, and they’re counting on you!”

“You’re right,” Hermione sighed. She sent her suitcases flying over to the front door. “Of course you’re right. I can do this. I mean, I was married to the man for almost three years. What’s one month and one last trip down the aisle going to hurt?” Hermione tried to keep her voice light and airy, but ended on a grimace.

“That’s the spirit!” Lizzie clapped, springing to her feet. “Now, I’ve got your key, and will be here tomorrow, around lunchtime. Don’t worry about a thing, Crookshanks and I will get along great. Right pretty kitty?” she cooed, clicking her tongue at the sleeping heap of fur. “Drop me a line if you get a chance and dish all the dirt!”

Hermione thanked and hugged her friend. Lizzie kissed her cheek and scurried out the door. Hermione clicked the two locks into place and secured the deadbolt, adding a security charm for good measure. Her building wasn’t in the worst part of the city, but one could never be too safe.

Climbing into her queen size bed, that took up the majority of space in her one tiny bedroom, Hermione stared at the faded water stains on the ceiling and contemplated the days that lie ahead of her.

Her best friends, Harry and Ginny, were finally tying the knot and Hermione had been asked to be the maid of honor. She knew when she accepted the position, one year prior, that Ron had been asked to be Harry’s best man. At the time, the date seemed so far off that Hermione had been sure she’d be able to put the past behind her and play nice for that small drop in time. Now, staring down the barrel of the gun, one month seemed like an awful lot of time to be around a man that made her blood pressure rise to dangerous levels.

She fought back the anxiety, though, and steeled her nerves, reminding herself that she had gone through much worse and lived to tell the tale. Harry and Ginny had worked so hard to keep her a part of their lives after her divorce, and the subsequent nervous breakdown that drove her to a whole other country. She hadn’t been back to England since the ink had dried on her divorce parchments, but her friends made the trek to America, several times, every year, to see her.

On their last visit, Ginny had broached the idea of Hermione coming for an extended stay, before the wedding, to help out with the final details. Knowing that Ginny would be busy fulfilling her Chaser duties with the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry keeping odd hours with the Aurors, Hermione had accepted, saying she would be happy to help in whatever facet she could. And so she hoarded her vacation time in order to clear one month from her schedule at the Magical Congress of the United States of America.

During the period leading up to her divorce, Hermione had fought to be transferred to the states, to work MACUSA. She was desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and Ron. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, finally caved and was able to secure her a position as Junior Secretary for the United Kingdom’s Head Liaison. Jumping at the chance, she accepted right away and was in New York City the day after her divorce from Ron Weasley was finalized.

Since then, she had done a pretty good job at separating the lives of the former Mrs. Hermione Weasley and the now single Hermione Granger. She only divulged bits of her past to certain friends, and even then kept much of herself closely guarded. But, Harry and Ginny knew her better than anyone else and wouldn’t let Hermione let go of _every_ aspect of her past. To their credit, they kept talk of Ron to a rarity and never once tried to talk her into moving back to England.

In a way she was excited to go back. Harry and Ginny had been trying to get a wedding planned for years now. He had proposed in 2000, but various obstacles kept popping up. Apparently at one point, Ginny made a comment about just running off to Greece, to elope, and Molly Weasley nearly had a stroke. She all but forbade her only daughter to run off into the night, like some harpy, even if it was with a man she had been with since she was sixteen. Hermione had laughed at the image when Harry retold it.

No, Hermione conceded. Lizzie was right in that she needed to go back, have fun, and just try to forget about things for a while. She could be civil with her ex-husband for a month, for the sake of her friends. Though, as much as Lizzie would be disappointed to hear, sex was not on the top of her to-do list. Laughing at her own pun, Hermione fell into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione’s portkey was scheduled for seven the following morning. She hated this method of travel and couldn’t imagine how some wizards did it weekly for business trips. She much preferred apparating, but wasn’t able to do that as much in New York City. Unless you knew exactly where you wanted to end up, it was safer to walk or take muggle transportation. Muggles (or No-Maj, as the Americans called them) didn’t take too kindly to people just appearing in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. And there were always so many people coming and going from the MACUSA offices that in order to apparate there, you needed to secure a much sought after apparition appointment. For this reason, Hermione had bought herself a bicycle in order to navigate the city. That morning though, lumbered with two suitcase, she opted for hailing a Muggle Taxi to take her downtown.

Hermione had dressed light for traveling that morning. She donned a pair of worn cut off shorts, and a powder pink, spaghetti strap tank under a white, sleeveless button up shirt. Stepping out of her apartment building, she was smacked with a wave of humidity. Knowing there was slim chance of her cab having working air conditioning, she unbuttoned the top half of the buttons and knotted the bottom hem around her waist.

After feeling like she had been shoved through a meat grinder, she was spit out into the Great Britain Ministry of Magic. The local time was just after noon and she desperately hoped Harry and Ginny had lunch planned because her nerves had forced her to forego breakfast. The rumble in her stomach made Hermione regret that decision. Making her way out of the ministry, she found an approved apparition spot, drew her wand, and quickly spun.

With in seconds, she found herself in front of a statue, depicting a happy couple, holding onto a smiling baby boy. Hermione smiled, sadly, at the statue, remembering the last time she had stood in front of it. It was one of those moments she constantly tried to keep pushed away, into a dark corner of her mind.

Just before Hermione moved abroad, Harry decided to move into Godric’s Hollow. He sold Number 12 Grimmauld Place and used to the money to rebuild his childhood home. A short walk up the cobbled street, proved to Hermione that he had done a fantastic job on the remodeling.

The cottage was two stories and Harry had kept the same tan color brick, though he added rust red shutters to the windows, and a large front porch. The front porch played host to a bench style swing and several cushy, wicker chairs, with a matching wicker table. Hermione knew that the back garden held a large pool that Harry had put in last spring, despite Ginny’s claims of it being frivolous.

With her wand out, Hermione was able to pass through the security charms on the gate and make her way up the stone path, lined with vibrant magenta azaleas. The large oak door was open, so she let herself through the screen door. She left her sandals and suitcases in the foyer, and padded through to the sitting room. It was decorated in earth tones, with two large, brown leather sofas, and two matching armchairs arranged around a grand hearth on the far wall. A mantle over the fireplace held an assortment of pictures. Hermione’s gaze lingered on a faded photo of her, Harry, and Ron, from the summer before their third year. How was it possible that that moment felt like so long ago, yet she remembered it like it was yesterday?

Hearing a clatter and swearing in the kitchen, Hermione pulled herself from the pictures and went to investigate. She found her best friend, of over a decade, standing in front of an open cupboard, amidst a pile of pots and pans.

“Every damn time,” Harry muttered.

“She’s never been the most organized witch, has she?” Hermione asked, nonchalantly.

“No, but I love her anyway,” Harry answered. He picked up a pot and put it on the stove, before a flicker of recognition crossed his eyes and he quickly turned to Hermione. “You came!” he shouted, jumping the mess of metal and pulling Hermione in for a hug. “What are you doing sneaking about?”

“Didn’t mean to sneak,” Hermione laughed, hugging Harry tight. “Your front door was open and I figured I’d let myself in.”

“Ugh, it’s just unseasonably hot at the moment and we’ve been trying to open up every airway possible,” Harry explained as he released Hermione. He flicked his wand and nested the pots and pans neatly within each other, before sending them back into the cupboard. “Cooling charms just aren’t doing the trick.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be making lunch?” Hermione hinted, peering at the vegetables on the kitchen island.

“Just about to give it a try,” Harry said warily. “Ginny has it in her head to make a dish called Gazpacho. She tried it on one of her trips to Spain and gave me this recipe,” he said, waving a piece of parchment. “Apparently, it will be nice for a hot day like today. I’ve been tasked with starting the prep work until she gets here.”

“You don’t seem too confident?”

“Merlin, no! You’ve had my cooking. My culinary skills begin and end with toast.”

“Go sit down,” Hermione ordered, picking up the knife and pulling a tomato onto the cutting board.

“I forgot, you’ve turned into an amateur chef,” Harry teased, starting to peel a cucumber.

Hermione had taken a liking to cooking in the past couple of years. It started out with helping her mother-in-law prepare holiday meals. After she moved to America, TV dinners quickly grew old, and she worked to further improve her cooking and baking skills. She was quite proud of being able to pull of quick gourmet meals, even if she was usually the only one that ever enjoyed them.

Together, Hermione and Harry prepped all the vegetables and soon had the soup nicely chilled. They were just putting the finishing touches on sandwiches and cutting up a cantaloupe, when the sound of the fireplace springing to life made them pause. A few seconds later, Ginny ambled into the kitchen, carrying her broomstick and bag of quidditch gear.

“Hermione! You came!” Ginny squealed. She dropped her gear and ran to give Hermione a hug.

“You all seem so surprised that I’m actually here,” Hermione scoffed, squeezing her friend. “I told you I wouldn’t miss this for the world. It’s been how many years in the making now?”

“Three,” Harry muttered, picking up Ginny’s gear and setting in their mudroom.

“Everything smells so yummy,” Ginny commented, peering into the pot of soup. “This looks perfect, Hermione.”

“Hey, why do you just assume it was her?” Harry cried, feigning a look of offense. “You did set me with the task, after all.”

“Yes, but it’s actually complete and it’s not toast,” Ginny said, simply.

“Fair enough,” Harry chuckled, kissing his fiancé.

Hermione watched her friends’ happy reunion. She vaguely remembered moments like that. Hearing her husband’s boots stomping off soot, anxiously awaiting his tender caress and a kiss. It wasn’t long before that anticipation had turned to anxiety upon his return, and she would pretend to have fallen asleep on the couch, with her books.

“Earth to Hermione,” Harry called, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, spaced out there for a moment,” Hermione smiled.

“We were just saying we have had a small change of plans,” Ginny said, ladling soup into large cream colored bowls. Harry set the four bowls of soup on a tray and carried it to the long, red oak table. Hermione followed, carrying the plate of sandwiches and melon slices.

“Don’t tell me you’ve pushed this shindig back again?” Hermione groaned, sliding onto a chair.

“No,” Ginny laughed, passing Hermione a stack of parchments. “There’s just been a bit of a change to the wedding party,” she said, hesitantly.

Hermione pulled black framed glasses from her purse and perched them on her face. Years of reading by wand light had taken its toll on her eyesight and she finally had to give in and get reading glasses.

“Ron has declined to be my best man,” Harry murmured, a note of resentment tinging his voice.

Hermione looked from Ginny, to Harry, in disbelief. “He didn’t!” Hermione cried. The couple nodded. “Because of me?” They nodded again. “What a selfish prick!” Hermione fumed. She knew Ron blamed her for the rift that grew between them, but she never thought he would take it out on his sister and his best mate.

“I was mad at first, but I understand why he did,” Harry said, waving his hand like it wasn’t a big deal to not have his best friend at his side, on the biggest day of his life. “I think his reasons are stupid, but I can’t force him. He’s still in the wedding party, just not the best man.”

“If it’s that big of a deal for Ronald, I can step down. He is your brother after all-“ Hermione started.

“And your _my sister_ ,” Ginny insisted, squeezing Hermione’s hand. “I don’t care what some rubbish piece of parchment says. You’ll always be my sister.”

Hermione’s eyes flooded with tears and she grabbed a napkin to keep them from spilling over. Just when she thought she couldn’t love the stubborn red head anymore than she already did….

“So, then who’s taking his place?” Hermione inquired, fixing her glasses and looking at Harry.

Harry cringed and started to answer, but was interrupted by the screen door opening and slamming shut.

“Something smells good Potter,” a cool, familiar voice called.

Hermione’s stomach dropped and she glared at Harry.

“Him? Really?” she hissed, as a tall, pale blonde figure lingered in the doorway.


	2. Chapter 2

“Yes, Granger, me,” Draco replied, dropping into the seat across from the bespectacled witch. “Nice to see you too.”

“Hello, Malfoy,” Hermione greeted, curtly. A scowl briefly plagued her face, before she started shuffling through her parchments.

Draco smirked. It seemed as though Harry had only just broke the news to her that her braindead ex-husband would not be joining them today.

“When Ron backed out, Draco kindly switched from groomsman to best man,” Harry explained, looking hopefully from Draco to Hermione. “I know you two have some unresolved history, but I was hoping you could put that aside and be civil with each other?”

Draco watched as Hermione’s brow furrowed and her shoulders slumped. Placing the parchment back on the table, she sighed and conceded, “Of course I can. We won’t let anything ruin your day, right Malfoy?” Hermione shot him a wary look.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” Draco agreed, smiling serenely at the surly woman in front of him.

“Forgot the pumpkin juice,” Hermione muttered. She got up and strode swiftly to the refrigerator. Draco sneaked a peak as her back was turned and she bent for the pitcher. It looked as though time had been good to Granger. Her legs were long and cloaked in creamy white skin. He had never really seen her out of school robes and was finally able to appreciate that she had curves, in all the right places. Her firm and shapely arse was working all the right angles of her cut off shorts.

She came back to the table and started pouring out drinks as Ginny started talking about the schedule for the final month, leading up to the wedding. Draco tuned her out as he admired Hermione’s cleavage peaking out from her shirt. Merlin bless the humid weather, for it left a few tantalizing beads of sweat trickling down her chest.

As she sat down, Draco was momentarily mesmerized by the way her glasses magnified her amber eyes. She hadn’t worn glasses at Hogwarts, had she? He was pretty sure she hadn’t. Her hair was significantly shorter, falling just to her chin. It seemed she had figured out a way to tame it also, as it framed her smooth cheek bones with soft curls.

“Still with us, Malfoy?” Hermione interjected, snapping Draco’s attention back to her eyes.

“Of course,” Draco answered, biting off the corner of his sandwich. Quickly chasing it with a sip of pumpkin juice, he continued, “I was just noticing that your hair is shorter than the last time I saw you.”

“You mean the night we pulled your arse out of the fiend fire?” she quipped, with a sneer.

Draco’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. Harry cleared his throat and shot warning looks at his friends.

“Hermione, I know it’s been a while since you’ve been around Draco, but can we please, PLEASE, not dwell on the past,” Harry begged. “I’m not asking you to forgive him. I’m just asking you to respect the fact that he and I have come to terms with our history, and have gotten to be pretty good friends. You don’t have to like him. Just….just maybe pretend that you do, for the sake of sanity,” Harry sighed.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione apologized, smiling sheepishly. “Malfoy, my apologies for that insensitive comment. We were just talking about the dinner that’s planned for the eighteenth. It’s a little over a week away. You’re still able to make it?”

“That’s the one at your parents’ house?” Draco asked Ginny, reluctantly. She nodded and Draco groaned. “Yeah, I’m still in. Should be smashing,” he added sarcastically.

Harry may have been able to forgive past grievances, but the Weasley family were much harder to sway. After several years of working in the ministry, Draco had come to an amicable relationship with Arthur and a professional one with Percy. And the two oldest brothers treated him with guarded niceness, on the rare occasion he’s met them. George, Ron, and Molly though tended to treat Draco as nothing more than a mosquito- an annoying pest that would either fly away…or end up squashed.

Draco had severely underestimated Ginny though. The first time Harry had invited him over to the new house, for dinner, it had taken Draco some convincing to actually go. He had heard how adept Ginny was with hexes and jinxes, and really wasn’t keen on being on the receiving end of one. In the end, Draco finally accepted the invitation and Ginny had welcomed him into their home as if he were a lifelong friend.

Shaking his head, Draco brought himself back to the present. Hermione was still pouring over the parchments, pausing every so often for a spoonful of soup. Draco eyed the cool, red substance in his bowl, slowly stirring the vegetables around.

“I promise, I didn’t poison it,” Hermione muttered, without looking up.

Draco pursed his lips, biting back a retort. Instead he spooned some into his mouth, ready to insult the vile looking concoction. Damn, though, if it wasn’t tasty. He wasn’t about to admit that to her. He couldn’t stand that smug smile when they were teenagers. It certainly wouldn’t endear him as an adult.

“The important thing,” Draco stated, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Are we still good for the stag night that Friday before?”

This question earned him stern looks from both Ginny and Hermione.

“Oh, don’t give me that holier than thou look,” Draco chided. “I know you all are going to have your little hen night. If my man here is going to go down in flames, he’s going out in style.” Draco grinned and slapped Harry on the back.

“Way to keep it cool, man,” his friend groaned. “I have cleared my night for that though, so we should be good to go.”

“Excellent,’ Draco drawled, with a satisfied smile. Seamus Finnigan had been working with him on planning the perfect bash for their mate.

“May I ask where you plan on taking him?” Ginny asked, wearily.

“You can,” Draco answered. Ginny stared at him expectantly. “Oh, you want me to tell you also. No, sweetheart. Even Harry here doesn’t know our plans. But I promise you, your husband to be will be returned in one piece. At least the one piece that matters,” Draco cracked, with a wink.

“Charming,” Hermione muttered.

“You’re lucky I trust you,” Ginny mockingly scolded. At this, Hermione threw her an incredulous look.

Draco smirked victoriously. He had a whole month in front of him to bait and goad Granger, and it seemed he hadn’t lost his touch since their Hogwarts days.

The thing about it all was, Draco really had nothing against Hermione. Much to the contrary of popular opinion, he had changed from his pureblood only, Death Eater ways. The war changed everyone. It wasn’t until Draco had been pushed to the front and center of it that he realized how utterly terrifying and useless it all was. By the end, his Death Eater status was upheld solely by fear, not loyalty.

There was something about Hermione Granger though, that always rubbed him the wrong way. In school, her biggest offense had been being friends with Potter and Weasley. He couldn’t fault her for that now, being that he was also friends with Harry. And she had had the good sense to ditch her husband. The brief thought that Weasley had done the leaving crossed his mind, but Draco found that highly doubtful. Granger was the brains in that relationship. He wondered how she had stayed married to the oaf as long as she did.

No, what annoyed him most now was that she obviously held onto old prejudices. Always the insufferable know-it-all. Draco had barely stepped foot through the door and she had already tried and sentenced him. At least the ministry had let him plead his case, before doing the same. And even then, they showed mercy. Draco had come away with a heavy fine and two years service to the Ministry. He was now in his fifth year at the ministry, having found a calling in Alchemy. Every now and then, he’d be called onto help with an Auror case, to lend his personal point of view on a subject, but he preferred to stay out of that whenever possible. It tended to send all his demons roaring to forefront of his mind.

Draco would just have to let her see that he wasn’t the same Slytherin prat she remembered, from years past. Kill her with kindness, as the muggles say. That’ll wipe that stupid, know-it-all smirk from her face. Okay, so he was still _a bit_ of the same Slytherin prat.

Lunch ended with fittings scheduled for both wedding parties, the following week, and Hermione owling out reminders to the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

“Quite the big wedding party,” Hermione commented, sealing up the final reminder “Fourteen people?”

“You can’t really include one Weasley, without including them all,” Ginny grinned, gathering the empty bowls. “We only plan on doing this once, and it’s taken so long for it all to come together. We figure we may as well have fun with it and include as many friends as we could.”

Draco noticed Hermione’s face fall, and tears gather at Ginny’s comment. He guessed when it came to marriage, everyone _planned_ to only do it one time. It unfortunately didn’t always work out that way. It’s why Draco kept himself unemotionally attached. He never turned down an invitation into a pretty witch’s bed, but that’s as far as it went. Out by dawn had become his motto.

Ginny caught onto the weight of her words, but the damage was already done. Tears were streaming down Hermione’s cheeks. Ginny dropped the bowls in the sink, and hurried to her friend’s side.

“I’m sorry, Min,” Ginny regretted, hugging the sobbing witch tight. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I supported your decision to-“

“I know, I’m sorry,” Hermione croaked. “But you’re right. A person is only supposed to do it once and I totally screwed up my chance.”

“Oh please,” Draco spat. The two witches quickly looked up, shocked at his sudden exclamation. “Ginny, cover your ears, because I won’t be painting your dear brother in a good light.”

Draco handed Hermione a clean napkin and continued, “You were married to Ron Weasley. You were young and dumb, and I’d consider chucking his arse to the curb an upgrade to your life. You’re too smart for someone who’s as thick as pigshit.”

Hermione blew her nose and looked at him skeptically. She inhaled deeply and grimaced.

“Thank you for those…kind?….words, Malfoy,” she whispered. “But it sadly is not that simple.”

Ginny patted Draco’s hand, then suggested to Hermione, “Why don’t we get your stuff and I’ll show you the upstairs. You can take a nap, if you want.”

Hermione nodded and followed Ginny from the kitchen.

Draco wasn’t sure what made him try to make Hermione feel better. He never was comfortable around crying women. It made him uneasy, like it was his fault they were bawling their eyes out. There was also the element that crying showed emotion, which really made things awkward. Best to keep his distance from all of….that….

“Well, Potter,” Draco declared, rising from his chair. “Can’t say this won’t be an interesting month!”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” Harry mused. He raked his fingers through his hair; his lightening bolt scar visible for a brief second before being reburied under his fringe. “See you for lunch on Monday?”

“Same as always, Potter.” With a wave, Draco strode out the front door, to the front gate, before apparating to his London flat.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Hermione gazed down at the wriggling bundle of blankets. Her heart soared as she reached down to pull the bedding away from the baby’s face. She instantly recoiled as she was met with a faceless child. Her strangled screams were drowned out by the piercing sound of metal against metal. Hermione scrambled to scoop up the baby. Her fingertips grazed the soft fabric just as the floor under her feet cracked and swallowed her into a never-ending darkness…_

 

Hermione bolted up, covered in a cold sweat and tangled sheets. She wildly kicked the covers from her legs and stumbled to the open window. A light drizzle had begun and Hermione lifted her head up, letting the cool mist bring her back to reality.

“Just a dream,” Hermione murmured to herself. She enjoyed the rain for another minute, before climbing back into the bed.

This was the third night in a row that she had had the same dream. She cursed herself for not getting her prescription refilled before leaving the states. Her mind had been so overwhelmed with her trip home, she neglected her appointment with the muggle therapist. Inevitably, she found one single night terror pill left in her purse, on her first night in England. It was going to be a longer month than she had originally thought.

For the next few hours, Hermione tossed and turned, never fully falling asleep. Anytime it seemed like she might finally drift off, her subconscious slapped her awake. At six o’clock, she finally gave up and went down for breakfast.

Ginny was back in Wales, with the Harpies, and she could hear Harry in the shower. Hermione took it upon herself to make up some waffles and bacon, before he had to head off to the ministry. Before she went back to New York, she had to teach that man how to at least scramble an egg to go with his toast.

“Mmm, Hermione you’re going to spoil me,” Harry sighed, sneaking a piece of bacon off the griddle, then promptly yelling about it being hot.

“If you’d have a little bit of patience, I could have gotten it out of the scalding grease for you,” Hermione chided. She piled the sizzling slices onto a plate and, with her wand, summoned the waffle from it’s iron and floated it to a plate in front of Harry.

“Ginny’s gonna hex me if I don’t fit into my tux at the fitting tonight,” Harry mumbled, shoveling a chunk of waffle into his mouth.

“Harry, I don’t think you’ve gained a single ounce since we left school,” Hermione remarked, drowning her own waffle in sticky syrup. “Some of us should be so lucky to have that metabolism.”

“You can’t complain,” Harry protested. “You look fantastic. Where’s your ounce of fat?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew her body was far from grotesque, but it wasn’t without constant maintenance.

“I also bike and walk miles around the city, everyday.”

“True, and it pays off,” Harry acknowledged. “Draco sure was appreciating it the other afternoon. I caught him checking you out.”

“I presume Draco Malfoy checks out every arse that passes him by.” Hermione stabbed at her waffle, causing her fork to scrape against the ceramic plate. Wincing at the sound, she dropped the fork and looked at Harry. “How on earth did you come to be friends with him? You’ve talked about having to work with him, but I never realized you two had become so close.”

“I don’t think we realized it either until it finally dawned on us that we were making excuses to hang out together,” Harry shared. He took a gulp of orange juice and continued on. “I was wary about him at first, of course. When I got brought on as an Auror, he and his parents were just coming to trial. I could tell during Draco and Narcissa’s testimony that they were sincere in their regrets and had, in the end, been part of the wrong side completely out of fear for what would inevitably happen if they tried to defect. Lucius wasn’t as forthcoming with his testimony, and in the end served another year in Azkaban, on top of his heavy fines.”

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. Worry lines, that no twenty-two year old should have, creased his forehead.

“After everything we had been through, I couldn’t hold the past against him,” Harry admitted. “He was only a child, trying to do what was expected of him. Just like us.”

“Except that we didn’t walk around with Death Eaters, calling people mudbloods,” Hermione growled.

“Come off it, Hermione,” Harry protested. “He was a scared kid that was looking for attention, and he went about getting it the only way he had been taught how. He’s not his father. He’s paid for his past mistakes, and has been a big help in rounding up a good deal of the Death Eaters that escaped after the battle.”

Harry’s back was rigid and his mouth set in a thin line. Hermione knew she had pushed him too far and backed down. Harry relaxed his defense a little and reached out for her hand.

“I know you took a lot of abuse from him,” Harry consoled, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “And I’m sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time about him being my best man. I’m not asking you to forgive him and suddenly be his best friend too. Just give him the benefit of the doubt sometimes and maybe let go of the past a little. Keep holding it all against him, and you’re no less a bully then he was.”

“Dammit, I hate when you make sense,” Hermione glowered. She let out her breath and managed a weak smile. “I will give it my best shot, for you and Ginny.” She took a bite of waffle and chewed thoughtfully. “Draco doesn’t think too much of Ron, does he?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I have come to find that Ron is an acquired taste, appreciated by only a select few.” He gave Hermione’s hand one last pat before taking his dishes to the sink. “I’ll be back around five-thirty tonight. I’m thinking Ginny should back around that time also. The fitting is at six, so we should probably apparate around quarter ’til.”

“Wow. She might not be the most organized witch, but Ginny has you on a pretty solid schedule there,” Hermione admired.

Harry laughed and kissed Hermione’s head before flooing off to the Ministry.

Hermione changed into a pair of white shorts and a purple tank top. Perusing the bookshelf, Hermione found a cheesy muggle romance novel of Ginny’s and took it to a lounge chair in the back garden. The earlier rain had done nothing to drive out the heavy, smothering heat.

The weather wasn’t the only thing that was hot and heavy though. Halfway through the book, Hermione had to close it or else she’d need to detour to her bedroom and relieve some pent up tension. Flushed from the heat, both outside and inside her body, Hermione slipped on her trainers, grabbed her purse, and set off for the market, in the center of the village.

After strolling up and down the narrow aisles, Hermione decided on lamb and mint jelly, with grilled asparagus and roasted potatoes, for dinner. Back at the house, she pulled out a David Bowie album, from Harry’s record collection, and set about singing and cooking. At ten to five, Hermione heard the sound of the floo and moments later a soaking wet Ginny trudged through, to the mudroom.

“Bit stormy in the south?” Hermione called, slicing up a loaf of bread.

“Could say that,” Ginny mumbled. A few moments later, she padded back into the kitchen, wearing just her bra and knickers. “You know I’m going to have to hex you if I don’t fit into my wedding gown,” she said, laying her weary head on Hermione’s shoulder.

“That’s almost exactly what Harry told me this morning, when I made him waffles,” Hermione laughed, leaning her head against her friend’s.

“Damn, I missed waffles?” Ginny whined, pouting.

The floo sounded again, from the sitting room, and Harry ambled in. He stopped in the doorway and a grin spread across his face.

“I need to make it home early more often,” he proclaimed, dropping his messenger bag and sauntering over to the island.

“Like we’d invite you,” Ginny taunted, as Harry came up behind her.

“I’ll be happy to just watch,” he purred, wrapping his arms around Ginny’s bare waist and nuzzling her neck.

“Leave me out of your kinky fantasies,” Hermione scoffed, slapping Harry’s arm. “Since you’re both home early, we can actually enjoy dinner instead of hurrying through it.”

“Just let me go put on some clothes.” Ginny gave Harry a kiss and hurried off, up the stairs.

Hermione glanced back as Harry watched his fiancé’s backside disappear to the second floor. She felt a pang of jealousy at the wanton need she saw in his eyes. Not that she wanted Harry, of course. As much as others had wanted there to be something more between them, her and Harry’s relationship never went beyond a brother/sister love for each other. As far as romance went, Harry only had eyes for Ginny.

Hermione just missed having someone look at her in that way. Her and Ron had had that at the beginning. One minute he’d be staring at her, as she was washing dishes or folding the laundry. The next, he had her pinned on top of the kitchen table, ripping her shirt off like it was nothing more than a tissue. On her more lonely nights, Hermione could still feel all of him, pulsing against her, as she begged him not to stop.

But, it had stopped. All the chemistry in the bedroom couldn’t mask the unrest that was between them in the real world. At first, all the fighting led to amazing reconciliations between the sheets. It wasn’t long, though, before fighting became more frequent than sex and neither of them could stand the sight of the other.

Hermione sighed and pushed the thoughts of sex and her ex-husband to the back of her mind. She would be seeing him within the hour, for the first time in two years, and she wanted to be calm and cool, with a hint of aloofness. Not the weak and sobbing mental case that she constantly felt like.

She met Harry’s eyes with a weak smile and he pulled her into an understanding hug.

“You’ll be fine, Min,” Harry whispered. “In the end, he’s just Ron.”

“Yup, just Ron,” Hermione sniffled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Draco arrived at _Willow’s Wedding Essentials_ a few minutes before six. A small chime above the door signaled his arrival, to the empty shop. Looking around, he saw the right side of the store was devoted to tuxes, suits, and formal wizard robes. To the left, the racks were filled with endless white gowns and robes. Over the last few years, muggle style wedding attire had become a trend and Draco could see why. The dress adorning a mannequin seemed to hug a witch quite nicely. Of course, getting a witch into one of those dresses requires a proposal. These days Draco never so much as proposed a second date.

“Are you a part of the Potter/Weasley wedding party?” a sugary voice called.

Draco pulled his gaze away from the dress and met the alluring blue eyes of a tall, blonde witch.

“I am indeed,” Draco replied, letting his gaze wander a little lower to her snug, white sweater and black, pencil skirt.

“Are you the groom?” she asked, her bright red lips twitching upwards.

“No, I am definitely not.” Not that it looked like that would have stopped this particular woman. Draco would have to remember to give Harry a warning before letting this huntress measure his inseam. “I’m the best man.”

“You most certainly are,” the brazen temptress cooed, running her finger tips along his arm. “I’m Kirsten, Ms Willow’s assistant.”

“I’ll be sure to call on you then, should I need assistance,” Draco casually replied, leaning a few inches closer to Kirsten.

The door chime sounded and Kirsten quickly withdrew. Draco smirked as she stood up straight and scurried to the front desk. Without turning around, the new voices told him that they had just been joined by the bride and groom.

He slowly turned around to greet them, but they were already in discussion with Kirsten. Hermione was standing off to the side, glaring at him, with her arms crossed. What had her knickers in a twist already? If only she’d drop the attitude, he’d happily untwist them for her.

“Like what you see, Granger?”

She pursed her lips and started walking towards him. “Bit of an obvious pull there, isn’t it Malfoy?” she spurned, breezing by him to look at the dresses.

Draco glared at the back of her head. Didn’t she know that that was the point? If he is had to work to get into a witch’s bed, it wasn’t worth it.

More of the wedding party entered the shop and Hermione looked up from the gown she had been inspecting. The way her body went stiff and her eyes widened, Draco knew who had turned up. Without a word, Hermione turned and walked deeper into the store.

Draco turned around and nodded at the tall red head. “Weasley,” he acknowledged.

“Malfoy,” Ron replied, striding past him. Ron stopped for a moment, watching Hermione, before detouring right, to the wizards’ section.

“Are we all here?” an old witch called, standing in the center of the shop and looking around her. Her snow white hair was pulled back in a long braid, and half moon glasses hung from a silver chain around her neck.

“Yes, Ms Willow, this is our crew,” Ginny assured, squeezing through to the shop owner. “Where should we start?”

“I’d like to get the bride and groom out of the way first. While we finalize those measurements, the others can get changed and we’ll work out their details last,” Ms Willow asserted. “If I am correct, you have yet to settle on a color scheme.”

“No, we have not,” Ginny sighed.

“Kirsten, why don’t you take Genevra here and help her into her dress, and then pass out the other ladies’ dresses.” Ms Willow ordered, pointing to the witches’ dressing room. “I will take these fine gentlemen back and let them get into their tuxes. Come, come,” the old witch beckoned.

Draco followed Harry and the other groomsmen into the fitting room area. For her age, Ms Willow worked quickly and efficiently. Draco had a zippered garment bag pressed into his chest and was bustled into a dressing stall. He easily slipped into the tux and attempted to knot his bowtie, finding it trickier than just a regular necktie. Three attempts later, and he left the stall with the tie hanging loose around his neck. Charlie and George were already out and dressed, getting fussed over by Ms Willow.

Draco admired himself in one of the three-sixty mirrors. The tuxes were standard black, with white collared shirts. The vests and bowties remained colorless. Usually he preferred a darker shirt, so as not to completely wash out his pale complexion, but he could work with the white.

Ms Willow turned her critical eye on him, swishing her wand up and down his inseam and around his waist and chest.

“Perfect Mr. Malfoy, thank you,” she declared, waving him off.

Draco scurried out to the shared area with Charlie and George. None of the girls had come out yet and the other men seemed content in their conversation, so Draco wandered about the shop as he waited for the others.

“Hermione!”

Draco glanced back and saw George wrapping Hermione in a hug, a grin spreading across her face. What was it about the Weasleys that made that girl happy?

“You think you can just sneak back into the country and ignore your favorite brother?” George joked, kissing her head.

“Who said you’re her favorite brother?” Charlie countered, nudging George out of the way.

“Hi Charlie,” Hermione laughed, giving the eldest brother a hug. When she released him, she caught Draco’s eye. She patted Charlie’s shoulder and started walking over to Draco.

Hermione’s dress was colorless, with one strap sweeping over her left shoulder. The bodice and strap were thin and lacy, with an equally thin mesh skirt that fell to just above her knees. As she grew nearer, Draco’s eyes grew wide. Bless the gods, she wasn’t wearing a bra and the shop’s cooling charms were working a treat on her perky breasts and nipples.

“Close your mouth. You’re drooling Malfoy,” Hermione commanded.

“Do you get off on giving orders, Granger?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know what gets me off,” she jeered, eyes narrowing.

Draco thought he actually wouldn’t mind knowing that factoid, but didn’t tell her that. Instead he let out a haughty sigh and asked, “I assume you came over here for something?”

“I was going to offer you some help.” Hermione gestured to his bowtie. “May I?”

Draco hesitated for a moment, before giving her a curt nod. She gently lifted his chin and then deftly worked the strip of fabric into a perfect bow.

“You look more put together now.” She gently patted the tie, her fingertips grazing his neck.

“Do my ears detect a compliment?”

“I do have a little sugar and spice left in me,” Hermione answered, smiling and letting her fingers linger on his collar.

A loud cough turned their heads to the back of the shop. Ron was now standing with his brothers, glaring at Draco and Hermione.

“Don’t let us ruin such a touching moment,” Ron snarled.

“Don’t worry, you weren’t,” Draco casually replied.

Hermione wasn’t as amused. She narrowed her eyes and growled, “Mind your own business, Ronald,” before she sashayed off to the opposite side of the shop.

Draco watched her hips swish under the mesh and wondered if she was doing that on purpose. Either way, he was starting to think he’d like to sample a bit of that sugar. Though he doubted if Hermione could loosen up enough to give anyone a taste, let alone him.

Ms Willow came shuffling out as the last two bridesmaids and Ginny came out of the dressing area. “Right, Genevra. We need to sort out colors. What were you thinking?”

“Draco,” Ginny called, searching through the throng of people. Draco gave her a wave and she beckoned him forward. “Can you stand beside Hermione please? I want to try a few colors out, to see what works best. We’re going to make your colors a slightly darker shade, to make your positions stand out a bit,” she said, with a wink.

Draco moved to stand next to Hermione, as Ginny and Ms Willow looked them over.

“If it helps, I’m partial to green,” Draco suggested.

“Not for a summer wedding, Draco,” Ginny remarked. “What about magenta?”

Ms Willow flicked her wand and Hermione and Draco’s clothes lit up in bright pink.

Draco looked down and frowned. “Potter, don’t let her do this to us,” he pleaded.

Harry hid his laugh, but his eyes twinkled merrily.

“No, dear. They both have too pale of complexions for something so bright.” Ms Willow flicked her wand again and the pink switched to a deep red.

“That’s not going to work with Weasly hair,” Harry commented.

Ms Willow cloaked them in royal blue, charcoal grey, rustic orange. Each one getting a shake of her head.

“Try a deep, plum color,” Hermione finally offered. “It won’t wash either of us out, and a softer lilac color should look fine on the rest of the party.”

From the corner of his vision, Draco saw Ron roll his eyes. Apparently, the action was not lost on Hermione either.

“Yes, even on the men, Ronald,” she gritted, without looking directly at her ex.

Draco snorted, trying to keep his composure. Ms Willow waved her wand and the orange was replaced with a dark purple.

“Ooh, I like that!” Ginny exclaimed. “Go have a look.”

Draco followed Hermione to a three-sixty mirror and watched as she slowly spun around. She was right- the color was a good compliment to her milky complexion. Draco eyed himself skeptically in the mirror. It wouldn’t go down in the books as his favorite color, but it was acceptable for one day.

“Not a bad choice, Granger,” Draco admitted, taking off the jacket and getting a full view of the vest. “I can work with this.” He caught Kirsten’s eye and winked.

“Happy to be of service,” Hermione grumbled, stepping away from the mirror. “Gin, is it okay if I go change?”

“Go ahead,” Ginny called, not bothering to look over. She was working on getting the perfect shade of lilac on the other bridesmaids’ dresses.

Hermione stalked off back to the dressing room and Draco worked his way over to Harry.

“I’m going to go change also, and get going,” Draco said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “While this has been a fun filled evening, rest assured we have something even better planned for Friday night.”

“I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a little scared, Malfoy.”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t, mate.”


	4. Chapter 4

Friday came and Hermione found herself alone the whole day. Harry had to work the entire day, and then was going straight from the Ministry out to his stag night with Draco. Ginny was supposed to have been home for the weekend, but had to make a last minute trip to Wales and wouldn't be home until the following morning.

Hermione didn't mind being alone during the day. She reveled in the peace and quiet of the little village; a stark contrast to the never-ending buzz of the the city she had grown accustomed to. If she was in the need of human presence, all she had to do was walk down the street. Sitting at the little corner cafe, Hermione could enjoy the company of people, without actually having to interact with them.

She came to find, though, that in evenings, especially that evening, she longed for the sounds of cars, sirens, and screaming neighbors. Anything that drove away the loneliness and gave her something to focus on, besides the dark craziness in her mind.

Books helped at first, but her eyes grew weary. The feeble hope crossed her mind that maybe she was tired enough to sleep, but it was only a pipe dream. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will sleep to happen. But it never came.

'Well, if sleep isn't going to come, maybe I should?' Hermione thought. It had been a while since she brought herself to orgasm, and it usually was a good homemade remedy for sleep. She stripped off her sweaty clothes and let the cool breeze, from the window, caress her body.

Relaxing under the cool air, Hermione slowly ran her hands over her breasts, gently squeezing and pulling at their softness. Her nipples responded, instantly stiffening in arousal. Licking her index finger and thumb, she pinched her left nipple and let her right hand slip down to her clit. She plunged two fingers into her wetness that was collecting in anticipation.

Slowly, she drew her fingers out and let them slide over her sensitive nub. Gently, she started rubbing and caressing her clit, every so often dipping back into her juices. It didn't take long before she was harshly pulling her nipple and grinding four fingers against her pussy, as her breath became quick and uneven. For a quick second, her body seized before melting underneath a wave of relief and pleasure.

Naked and spread eagle, Hermione closed her eyes and focused on bringing her breathing back to an even pace. Her body now felt exhausted, but her mind was alert and showed no signs of shutting down. With a defeated groan, she rolled out of bed and into the shower.

Down in the kitchen, she took stock of what what in the fridge, and cupboards, and decided to make a beef stew and cupcakes. She wasn't particularly hungry but cooking would let her mind focus on something productive, instead of circling around her usual demons.

Hermione found a Radiohead album and thought it a fitting soundtrack to her current mopey mood. The needle scratched briefly against the vinyl, and then the sounds of Planet Telex filled the house. It wasn't long before the hearty smells permeated the air and Hermione had relaxed in her element.

As her stew was simmering and the chocolate cupcakes were cooling, Hermione mixed up a bowl of strawberry frosting. Humming along to the music and lost in task, the sudden crack of apparition made her shriek and clutch her chest. Forgetting about the spoon in her hand, pink icing splattered her chest.

"Just us, Granger," Draco called from the foyer. He came sauntering into the kitchen, leading a stumbling Harry. Draco leered at the icing on her chest. "You look tasty."

Hermione was about to throw back a remark, but was caught off guard by Harry dragging a warm cupcake across her chest. She felt heat creep into her cheeks and looked at Harry in disbelief as he shoved the entire pastry into his mouth.

"Mmm, thanks Min," Harry drawled, with crumbs lining the edges of his lopsided smile.

"I can help you with the rest of that," Draco suggested. "And I don't need a cupcake for it."

Hermione's cheeks burned hotter. Draco smiled, with an malicious gleam in his eye. Her insides twitched, and she suddenly felt ready for a repeat performance from earlier.

"I think you need to get your boy to bed," Hermione instructed, trying to hide her fluster as she moved to the sink. "Where did you take him anyway?"

"You don't want to know," Draco answered.

"Don't tell Ginny," Harry mumbled.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and laughed. "Oh no, I really do. My curiosity is piqued," she insisted, mopping the icing from her chest. She licked a bit of the sweet cream off her finger, arching a brow at Draco. If she was not mistaken, she heard growl escape his throat.

She honestly had no clue what she was doing, taunting him like that. It was almost like her previous orgasm had sent her hormones into overdrive and now she had no control over them. Draco's stance stayed loose and casual, but his eyes were wild.

"Don't go playing with fire now, Granger," Draco warned. His threat turned her insides to liquid and made her knickers damp.

"Where'd you take him?"

"If you must know, we went on a pub crawl that ended at a muggle strip club," Draco informed, in a way that felt like he was daring Hermione to lecture him.

"Don't tell Ginny," Harry whispered, lazily holding a finger to his lips.

Hermione sighed and turned away to stir the stew. Whatever seductress act she was pulling on Draco, she had to reign it in. After his night, he looked ready to pounce and not at all immune to her playful flirts.

Were they playful? Yes, of course they were playful! This was Draco Malfoy. The boy that had made her and her friends miserable. The reason behind many tears and detentions. Hermione took a deep breath and reasoned that after her solo performance, she was all too aware about how much she craved the touch of another. Maybe Lizzie was right about going out and finding a muggle for a one night stand....

"Get the drunk to bed," Hermione laughed, nodding to the steps. "If you're hungry, come back down. I made plenty."

Draco looked taken aback for a second before nodding. "Okay, that sounds good actually. Save me a seat." He turned to Harry and gently grabbed him by the elbow. "Let's go sleep it off Potter."

Harry allowed himself to be led to the steps, still mumbling, "Don't tell Ginny. Don't tell Gi- whoops!"

Hermione cringed at the crashing sound.

"We're good!" Draco called.

Hermione giggled and started spreading icing on the cupcakes. The record was playing a second time through and she started singing along to her favorite song.

"Kill yourself for recognition, kill yourself to never ever stop," she sang softly, putting the finishing touches on the last cupcake. She started spooning stew into two bowls. "You broke another mirror. You're turning into something you are not. Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry. Don't leave-"

Hermione stopped suddenly, with jolt. Draco was standing in the doorway, studying her.

"Take long for him to pass out?" she asked, setting the steaming bowls on the table.

"Pretty sure he was gone before his head hit the pillow," Draco answered, accepting the spoon Hermione held out.

"You know he'll tell Ginny himself."

"Oh, I know. Those two are like open books with each other."

"Yeah, it's sweet," Hermione gingerly smiled at Draco. "I'm glad you guys were able to take him out to unwind for a night. It doesn't seem like he's had much of a chance lately."

Hermione set a plate of bread on the table and sat down across from Draco. He took a slice and started stirring his stew with it.

"Harry works hard," Draco replied, biting off a chunk of soggy bread. "He deserves a night to let loose. They both do. Make sure Ginny gets a satisfactory hen night."

"Plans are in the works," Hermione assured, blowing on a spoonful of stew.. They ate in silence for several minutes before Draco broke it.

"So, do you like living in New York City?"

Hermione laughed. "I guess so."

"You don't seem so sure about that."

Hermione took her time chewing a crust of bread, thinking out how she wanted to respond. It wasn't that she didn't like New York. It was more that despite living there, she felt very detached from it. She knew the reasons why. She had spent plenty of money and time on therapy sessions, discussing the reasons why. It still didn't change the fact that she longed for more.

"The city is great," Hermione finally offered. "I don't feel like I live there though. Sometimes it feels like I merely just exist there. It's not totally the city's fault. At this point, I think that's how I would feel no matter where I went in the world."

Draco stared at her, his expression softening. Hermione could see the questions rolling around in his mind.

"Go ahead and ask. It's what everyone's afraid of bringing up."

"What happened between you and Weasley?"

Hermione wasn't sure why she felt so willing to talk to Draco about things that night. Maybe it's because he didn't walk on eggshells around her. Harry and Ginny avoided talk of Ron, whenever possible. Even on all the trips they made to the states, they never brought him up unless Hermione asked. At first, that's how she wanted it. She wanted to push certain events as far into the past as possible. Now, after seeing him, she felt like she needed to talk about him...curse him...mourn him, and what they could have had.

"The simple version is, as you put it the other day, we were young and dumb," Hermione started. "We were madly in love, or at least heavily in lust, and didn't want to wait to start our lives together. The war ended in May. We were married that August."

"Yeah, I'd say that was pretty fast," Draco murmured.

"Everyone advised us against it, saying we had barely been dating. But in our minds, we had been dating for years, even if it wasn't official. So, we got married, moved into a small flat in London, got jobs at the Ministry, and started our happily ever after."

"The first year was great. We were in our honeymoon period and everything was rose tinted. Nothing could break our bond. We had lived together for seven years after all, going through more together in that one year than what many couples go through in a lifetime." Draco grimaced and ducked his head at that comment, but Hermione continued. "The beginning was filled with excitement and passion."

"What we hadn't accounted for was that living together for seven years, at school, was very different from living together as a married couple. Sharing everything, everyday, with nowhere to escape. It eventually started chipping away at our armor of happiness."

Draco watched her, listening attentively, so Hermione proceeded. "Ron is a creature of habit, that thrives on consistency. I wanted try new things, travel the world. He wanted to take me to the same, dingy pub, every Friday night, and call it a date. You know, I still haven't ever been on an actual, good date? Twenty-three years old and nobody's ever taken me for a proper night out."

"I'm surprised you stayed with him as long as you did," Draco commented, dropping his spoon into the empty bowl.

"I thought that we were just going through a rough patch and I could just ride it through. But it just kept going downhill. He'd get insanely jealous if I talked to anyone else, and started claiming that I didn't think he was good enough for me anymore. I tried to get him to go for counseling, but that meant admitting that something was wrong, and he refused."

"Our fights got worse and worse. Every now and then we'd throw in a bit of violence to spice it up." Draco narrowed his eyes and Hermione waved it off. "It never came to actual physical blows. We'd just hurl things against the walls, emphasizing our anger. Until one day we were having a particularly nasty row. I can't remember exactly what it was about, but I remember screaming an insult that I knew would hurt him. It took us both by surprise when he raised his fist, about to take a swing."

"He dropped his fist almost as quick as he had raised it, apologizing profusely. But the damage had been done and in that instant we both knew it was irreparable. I filed for divorce the next day and he didn't fight it. It was finalized four months before our third anniversary, and I was in New York before the ink was dried on the parchment. Thought I was running away and leaving it all behind. Ended up with just running headfirst into a whole new set of demons."

"You can't run away from your demons," Draco said, matter of factly.

"No, you can not," Hermione agreed. She summoned the tray of cupcakes to the table. Picking up a dessert, she looked around the kitchen and tears sprung to her eyes, for the first time that evening. "I should have this," she whispered, her voice strained.

"What? You and Potter?" Draco asked, looking at her skeptically.

"No, not Harry," Hermione spluttered. "Just this," she repeated gesturing around the room. "A house, a husband. A kid, maybe another on the way." She let her hand trail across her abdomen. "But yet here I am- a divorcee, with PTSD and intimacy issues. Living in a glorified closet, with her cat." She polished off half her cupcake in one bite, before adding, "And in need of a good shag."

Draco started choking on his cupcake and Hermione summoned two beers from the fridge. She uncapped one and slid it across the table.

"Sorry, that last fact was a bit too much," she apologized, taking a pull of her own beer.

"Can't fault honesty," Draco wheezed. He swiped his sleeve across his mouth, blowing out a breath. "Did you ever stop to think not about what you've lost, but about what you gained by getting rid of that baggage? I mean, you don't actually wish you were still married to him, do you?"

"No, I don't," Hermione croaked. "I know he and I are better off apart. But as you said, you can't run away from your demons. Apparently, you can also only restrain them in the corner for so long."

Draco sat quietly for a few minutes, his eyes staring at nothing in particular as he finished his beer and summoned another. Eventually, his eyes refocused on Hermione.

"Look, Granger. I don't know what sort of baggage you're carrying around with you. But I do know something about having a shitty past haunting you," Draco sympathized. "After the war, my sentence included two years assisting the Aurors in rounding up the rest of the Death Eaters. It was one of the hardest things I had to do. With each trial, I was forced to relive my past and see the consequences of those choices. It was fucking hell and each night I wished like mad that it would stop."

"I came to find, that you either face your demons, or you fear them," Draco asserted, taking a second cupcake, and handing one to Hermione. "You can dance with the devil, or be a slave to him. I've done both, and I prefer dancing."

Hermione took a bite and contemplated his statement. He made it sound so matter of fact, like she was supposed to be choosing between chocolate or vanilla ice cream.

"It's just that simple? Black and white?" Hermione countered.

"Merlin's sake, Granger. I never said it would be simple. I'm just saying that those are your choices. Facing your demons is going to be hard and it's going to hurt. But living in fear of them, for the rest of your life, is going to hurt a lot more."

Draco fell silent as he finished his cupcake and downed the last of his beer. Hermione slowly finished hers, studying the lines on his face and wondering just what he's gone through the last five years.

"Now," Draco drawled, leaning across the table. "About that shag you were talking about..."

"Nice try," Hermione laughed. "How about I make up the second guest bedroom for you so you don't drunkenly splinch yourself?"

"Can't blame a bloke for trying."

Hermione stood up and looked longingly at the cupcakes. "Will you judge me if I take a third?"

"Would it make you feel less guilty if I had another?"

Hermione grinned as Draco grabbed another cupcake and handed one to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco followed Hermione to the second guest bedroom. The cottage had four bedrooms total, with Harry using the last room as his office. Not that he actually got to work from home often. Draco couldn't remember the last time he went into the Ministry and Potter wasn't already there. Whether from coming in early, or never having left the evening before. He had been happy to give his friend a night to let go and have fun. Though, he did not envy the hangover Harry would be waking up to in a few hours.

Hermione helped throw a fresh set of sheets and clean quilt onto the bed.

 

"Thanks," Draco said, stripping off his shirt and starting to undo his trousers.

"You could at least wait until I'm out the door," Hermione squeaked, holding her hand up to shield her eyes.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she called, closing the door.

Draco smirked and shucked off his trousers. 'She wants me,' he thought gleefully, climbing into bed.

Happily buzzed, Draco easily fell asleep, only to be woken a few short hours later by blood curdling screams. Snatching up his wand, Draco bolted down the hall, flinging open Hermione's door.

He was expecting to find an intruder, hexing the life out of her. Instead, Hermione was flailing about, alone, in the bed. She was obviously in the middle of a nightmare that she hadn't completely woke up from. Draco crawled across the bed, trying to avoid harsh contact with flying hands and feet.

"Granger, it's okay," Draco whispered, trying to gently wake her. He watched, helplessly, as Hermione continued thrashing.

"No, no, don't take her!" Hermione shrieked.

"No one is taking anyone." Draco hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. Hermione's body relaxed and her limbs went still.

"Gone," she sobbed, still not fully conscious.

"It's alright. It's just a dream." Draco gave her shoulder a gentle rub, and started to pull away.

Hermione's tear stained face turned to look at him. "Please, don't leave me," she begged, softly, and clutching his left arm.

Draco paused for a moment, not knowing how to answer her request. Finding her red rimmed eyes filled with fear and longing, he found himself nodding and lying down next to her. Hermione rested her head back on her pillow and relaxed her grip on his arm, though not totally letting go.

"I'm not going anywhere, Granger," Draco whispered. He drifted back off to sleep, studying the anxious lines that tormented Hermione's face.

The following morning, Draco awoke holding onto to something warm and smooth, with delicate fingertips running through his chest hair. He slowly opened one eye to see Hermione cuddled up against him, still sleeping, with one of her hands running over his chest. Enjoying the light touch, he closed his eyes and relaxed, not wanting to interrupt what looked liked much needed slumber. In the bright sun, Draco could clearly see purple shadows under her eyes and wondered how long it had been since she'd had a proper rest.

Within the hour, Hermione started to stir. Nuzzling her cheek against Draco's side, her hand slid from his chest to his shoulder. Realizing that the handsy witch wasn't the only thing stirring in the bed, Draco thought it only fair to give her a warning.

"Careful Granger," he mumbled. "If you wake the beast, be prepared to tame it."

Draco felt her body stiffen and she jerked her arm from his chest.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?!" Hermione shrieked, bolting upright.

"Well, I thought I was enjoying the company of a pretty witch."

Hermione looked down and appeared momentarily relieved at the presence of her pajamas. Her head shot back up, glaring at Draco.

"How dare you sneak in here and try to take advantage! What were you thinking?!"

Draco scowled and stood up. Her Jekyll and Hyde mood swings were starting to wear on him. One minute she's sweet and flirty. The next she's ready to claw his eyeballs out.

"I wasn't bloody trying to take advantage of anything!" Draco snapped. "I was perfectly happy in my own bed, until you started screaming your bleedin' head off at two in the morning! With Potter dead to the world, I figured I'd at least make sure you weren't being murdered." He clenched his fists, wanting to hit something in the worst way. Draco scowled at Hermione and cursed her for making him sympathize with her ex-husband. "You're the one that was having nightmares and pleaded with me not to leave."

Hermione met his scowl with her own, her mouth set in a thin, hard line.

"You don't remember, do you?"

"Out!" Hermione yelled, charging at him. Draco didn't move an inch, and let her get in his face. "Get the fuck out!"

Draco's lip twitched. "Guess this is what I should expect from showing compassion." He grabbed the doorknob and whipped the door open.

Draco moved to leave, but stopped as Harry shuffled down the hall. Slowly blinking, Harry's green eyes moved from Draco, to Hermione, and back again.

"I'm too hungover for whatever the hell this is," Harry grumbled, moving on towards the stairs.

Draco was suddenly shoved aside as Hermione exited the room and followed after Harry. Draco growled and stomped off to get his clothes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Who did he think he was kidding? Why would she ask Malfoy to stay with her? She had actually finally gotten a good night's sleep and he had to go and ruin what should have been a good start to the morning.

Hermione reached the kitchen and found Harry rummaging in a cabinet, wincing and groaning.

"Sit down," she gently suggested, turning Harry towards the table. He obeyed and sank into a chair. "What would you like?"

"Just some aspirin," he moaned, letting his head thud against the table. "Ow...a whole bottle should do the trick."

Hermione filled a glass with water and pressed two aspirin into Harry's hand. "Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee would be amazing," Harry sighed. He tossed the aspirin back his throat and gulped down the glass of water.

Hermione set a pot of coffee percolating and started some bacon sizzling.

"I promised Ginny I would make her waffles. Do you want anything to eat?"

"Oooh, Merlin no!" Sudden stomping from the second floor drew their attention upwards. "Everything okay between you and Draco?"

"Apparently there was a communication breakdown." Hermione pulled mugs from the cabinet and went to set them on the counter. One slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. A broken stream of memories flashed through her mind.

Harry cringed and slowly turned around.

"Sorry, Harry." Hermione muttered, "Reparo," and she sent the mended mug back to the counter.

Shit, she did have a nightmare last night. Draco must have gotten to her before she could wake herself up. Lord, she must have been a pretty pathetic sight for him to have stayed with her the entire night.

Footsteps started descending down the steps just as the floo sounded. Ginny and Draco entered the kitchen together, smiling at Harry's lifeless form, hunched over the tabletop.

"What'd you do to him last night?" Ginny asked.

Hermione peeked at Draco, from the corner of her eye, as she poured batter into the waffle iron. She heard Harry mumble something incoherent. Ginny scrunched her face in confusion, looking at Draco.

"We journeyed through a myriad of welcoming pubs, before ending our evening with some lovely ladies at a muggle strip club," Draco recounted.

Ginny cracked up laughing, and walked over to Harry's side.

"How are you feeling darling?" She asked, rubbing his neck. Harry moaned an agonizing reply. "Good, you deserve your pain," she laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder.

Hermione giggled and set a mug of black coffee in front of Harry. She poured out two more cups, offering one to Draco. Without looking at her, he accepted. She couldn't blame him of course. Her recent behavior hadn't exactly been civilized.

Hermione took out the finished waffles and started cooking another batch. She set the waffles and bacon on the table, on the side furthest from Harry. Ginny's face had soften and she was running her hands through his hair.

"I actually have some big news," Ginny broached.

"What's that sweetheart?" Harry groaned.

"I handed in my resignation with the Harpies."

They all turned to Ginny in astonishment. She adored playing Chaser. Why would she suddenly up and quit?

Harry looked at her skeptically and said, "You know I support you in whatever you want to do Gin, but what made you quit? You've never mentioned anything about leaving the team."

Ginny smiled and explained, "I still love the game, and the team. It's just...it's not really safe to play when you're pregnant, is it?"

Hermione gasped and her wide eyes met the surprised face of Draco. They both quickly looked at Ginny, who was patiently waiting for a response from Harry.

"Yeah, I guess you don't really want to be dodging bludgers when you're...." Harry trailed off, as the puzzle pieces seemed to click into place. "You're pregnant?!" he cried, jumping up. Hermione could see the sudden movement hurt his head, but he pushed it aside.

"You mean, there's a little person in there?" Harry exclaimed, placing his hand on Ginny's stomach. Ginny grinned and nodded vigorously. "I'm going to be a dad?" Ginny kept nodding. "I'm going to be a dad!" Harry whooped, looking at Hermione and Draco.

Hermione covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She forced a smile onto her face before dropping her hands. It was achingly beautiful to see her friends so happy and excited.

Draco thumped Harry on the back, calling, "Congrats mate! A wedding and a baby on the way."

"The wedding," Harry muttered. "You can't be pregnant! We're not married!"

"Mother nature doesn't really care about those details," Ginny remarked.

"But your mother is going to kill me! Her only, unwed daughter is with child!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Ginny exclaimed, slapping Harry's arm. "No one talks that way anymore. Besides, this news goes no further than this kitchen." Ginny turned and pointed a scolding finger at Hermione and Draco. "We'll tell everyone after the wedding. That's our day. There will be plenty of other days for people to gush over the baby."

"The baby," Harry breathed, beaming down at Ginny. "We're going to have a baby." He pulled her close and kissed her hard.

"Now, now," Draco interrupted, snatching a piece of bacon. "That's what got you here in the first place."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry murmured.

"Seriously though, not a word," Ginny warned. "Not even to Ron." Hermione chuckled. She knew that would be tough on Harry. He told Ron everything. Ginny turned to Hermione with inquiring eyes. "You'll be godmother, right?"

Fresh tears glazed Hermione's eyes. "Me? Really?"

"Of course, who else would we choose?" Ginny cried, pulling Hermione into a hug.

"Don't I get a say?" Harry joked.

"Where did you go for your stag night again?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows.

Harry pursed his lips. "How long are you going to use that one against me?"

"At least eight more months."

"I'm so excited for you two," Hermione sighed, hugging her best friend tight. "I promise not to screw your kid up, too much."

"Congratulations Ginny," Draco said, walking over to give her a hug. "I have to go. I'll see you guys tomorrow night." Draco gave Harry one last pat on the shoulder and grabbed a waffle. "Granger," he called, not bothering to look at Hermione as he walked away.

"Everything okay between you two?" Harry asked Hermione, for a second time.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I wasn't very kind to him earlier and he called me out on my bullshit"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She was making a right mess of things within the first week.


	5. Chapter 5

Staring into the closet, Hermione fretted over what to wear. That evening would be her first time seeing Molly and Arthur since she had fled to the states. She was nervous about to what to expect, at least from Molly. Arthur was an understanding man and she didn’t expect him to hold a grudge against her. Molly could be slightly more stubborn, especially when it came down to someone hurting a member of her family. 

Hermione finally settled on a yellow sundress and heeled, white sandals. She grabbed a white cardigan, for when the sun went down. The humidity had finally moved out, allowing milder temperatures to set in. She pulled one side of her hair back in a flower clip and kept her makeup simple- a quick swipe of eyeshadow and her favorite cherry lip gloss. 

Harry was in his office, catching up on some last minute paperwork, before dinner. Ginny was curled up on his couch, reading a book. They both glanced up when Hermione peeked her head in.

“I’m going to head to The Burrow a little early,” Hermione informed. “I’ll see you guys there, okay?”

“Sure,” Ginny answered, her brow furrowing. “Are  _ you _ okay?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d pop in early and feel out your mum’s temperament. That way, if she wants to murder me she can get it over with first thing and not have to ruin the dinner.”

Harry rolled his eyes and Ginny smiled. “I’ve told you, my mum has nothing against you. She loves you and asks about you all the time. I know she’ll be ecstatic to see you. Go on, we’ll be there soon.”

Hermione nodded and headed for the front yard. She apparated to the end of The Burrow’s dirt lane. Pausing for a moment, Hermione gazed up at the multi-storied cottage that had once been her second home. From the outside, it looked exactly the same as the last time she had seen it; slightly leaning in places, with various chimneys piercing the sky, and candlelight softly illuminating the windows. She could hear the small babbling creek, flowing in the distance, mingling with clucking chickens. The breeze brought promise of steak and kidney pie in the oven.

Hermione’s stomach rumbled. It had been so long since she’d had a proper steak and kidney pie. She had tried to recreate the dish in New York, but could never cook one to rival her former mother in-law’s. 

With a deep breath, Hermione held her head up high and started striding up the lane. Making her way to the back garden, she saw three enlarged picnic tables, cloaked in red linen tablecloths. She spied a few fat gnomes, waddling out from underneath the tables, only to jump into the middle of a thick rhododendron bush. The sounds of clanging pots and Molly’s humming floated from the house.

The top half of the Dutch door was wide open. Hermione timidly approached it, softly rapping three times. Molly’s humming ceased as she leaned around the corner.

“Oh my stars!” Molly cried, wiping soap suds on her apron. “Since when does Hermione Granger knock at this house? Come in dear, come in!”

Hermione hesitantly opened the door and stepped into the warm kitchen. She was instantly engulfed by Molly’s tight embrace. Flooded with relief, Hermione wrapped her arms around Molly’s waist and placed her chin on Molly’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione whispered, tears creeping into her eyes.

“Whatever for sweetheart?” Molly asked, leaning back to peer into Hermione’s eyes.

“For…everything, I guess.”

Molly led her to the kitchen table and coaxed her into a chair. She summoned a pitcher of water and poured out a glass, sliding it into Hermione’s hand.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Molly insisted, sliding into the seat across from Hermione. 

“But there is.” Hermione took a sip of her water and swiped the tears from her eyes. “I shut you guys out and I shouldn’t have,” she admitted. “I got your letter, shortly after I moved. I wanted to write you back, but I didn’t know what to say. I kept telling myself to write back, write back! But eventually I left it too long and it got to the point where I felt it would be silly to write back. I’ve gotten pretty good at talking myself in circles, without coming to any productive resolutions.”

“I’m glad you’re here now,” Molly said, gently, cupping Hermione’s hand in hers. “No matter where you go, you’ll always be part of this family. Whether you’re married to one of our sons, or not, nothing will ever change that.”

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, smiling back at Molly’s comforting face. “I’ve been so scared to come back and face everyone. I was so sure everyone hated me.”

“Nonsense, dear.” Molly grinned and kissed Hermione’s forehead. She stood and started to return to her preparations.

“Can I help with anything? I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking.”

“Would you like to take charge of the potatoes?”

“Sure. Are we roasting, mashing, baking?” Hermione summoned the basket of scrubbed potatoes and a vegetable peeler.

“We have enough there for you to do whatever your heart desires.”

Hermione started peeling some and setting them aside for mashing. Others got cut up and sprinkled with salt, pepper, and oil for roasting. The remaining spuds simply got speared with a fork, to be baked for jacket potatoes. As she was sliding the last tray of roast potatoes into the oven, the sound of the door made her jump. She looked back to see Ron standing in the doorway, staring at her.

“Hello, Ron,” she greeted, cordially.

“Hi. You all right?” Ron stiffly replied.

“Yes, thanks. And you?” He nodded his reply. “I just stopped by early to help your mum with last minute preparations.”

Ron continued to stare, not responding, before turning his attention to his mother. “Anything left to do in the yard?”

“Your father is supposed to be setting the tables, but I think he snuck off to his workshop. Would you mind, dear?” Molly handed him a stack of plates, heaped with cutlery and white, linen napkins. “Thank you,” she called, as Ron backed out the door.

Hermione waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “I was surprised to find out he wouldn’t be Harry’s best man. I offered to step down as maid of honor, but Ginny wasn’t having it.”

“Quite right,” Molly replied, transferring chopped carrots into a bowl of lettuce. “If Ronald wants to throw a temper tantrum, that’s his business. Don’t you think you need to change to accommodate his insecurities.”

“Harry seemed pretty disappointed. I have a feeling Ron doesn’t realize how much it meant to him.”

“I think what upsets Ron most now is who Harry chose as his replacement,” Molly grumbled, her expression hardening.

“Yeah, I figured Draco’s choosing ruffled a few feathers.” Hermione started slicing up a watermelon, lining the triangular pieces up, on white serving platter. “He’s not that bad, though.”

“Oh, not you too!” Molly said, exasperation heavy in her voice. 

“I wasn’t thrilled when I found out about it either, but I can see that he’s obviously changed in the last five years since I saw him. He’s still a bit of a smug arse.” Hermione looked up and met Molly’s amused look with one of her own. “But, you can’t deny that he clearly cares for Harry and Ginny. And in the end, that’s what matters.”

Molly’s expression finally softened and Hermione saw her let out a deep breath. “Still as level headed and logical as ever, aren’t you?” she laughed, kissing Hermione’s forehead.

“I have my moments, I guess.”

“Mémé Molly!” a voice screamed. Bill and Fleur’s daughter, Victoire, burst through the door and launched herself into Molly’s arms.

“Hello, darling!” Molly cooed, squeezing the little girl tight. 

“Where’s Freddy?” Victoire demanded.

“I’m sure he’ll be along soon, with Uncle George and Aunt Angie. Do you remember Auntie Min?” Molly asked, pointing to Hermione.

Hermione smiled at the appraising blue eyes. Victoire had only been two when Hermione left, so she was surprised when the little one answered, “Yes, she’s married to Uncle Ron.”

“She used to be, chéri,” Bill gently explained, bouncing the new baby, Dominique, on his hip. “Auntie Min moved to the big city, remember?”

“Paris?”

Hermione giggled and knelt down to Victoire. “No, I live in New York City now. All the way over in America.”

“Oooh,” Victoire thought for a moment and then asked, “Wanna go catch gnomes?”

“I would love to,” Hermione answered, accepting the small hand that reached out to her.

Outside, Victoire scrambled up and over the stone border wall and jumped into the orchard. “Come on!” the little voice shrieked, darting off into the trees. Carefully pulling herself over the wall, Hermione stumbled her landing before hurrying to catch up.

Hermione followed the gleaming head of white blonde hair through the apple and pear trees. Every few feet, Victoire would stop and try to snag a passing gnome. She’d giggle like mad when they would squeak and scurry up the tree. 

“Psst,” Hermione whispered, waving Victoire to her. She bounded back until she was right beside Hermione. “Can I show you a secret?” Victoire nodded, eagerly. “The best way to catch a gnome is to sit still and pretend like you’re sleeping. They get very curious, and will come right up to you.”

Victoire plopped down in the grass and dirt, her legs spread in front of her. She placed her hands on the ground and closed her eyes. Hermione smiled, studying the child’s delicate features that mirrored her mother’s, though the little girl’s mannerisms were anything but delicate. Kneeling down, careful not let her dress drag in the dirt, Hermione closed her eyes, peeking out one of them every few seconds.

It didn’t take long before a tiny gnome approached Victoire, and started climbing up her leg. Hermione heard her let out a little gasp, but Victoire didn’t move. She let the gnome climb up onto her lap and giggled when it burrowed into the pocket of her skirt. Slowly standing up, the girl’s eyes and smile were wide.

“I caught one, Auntie Min!” Victoire whispered excitedly.

“Victoire! Hermione!” Harry’s voice called, through the trees.

“I think dinner is ready.”

“I’m gonna show my gnome to Freddy!” Victoire cried, sprinting back for the house. At the wall, Hermione lifted her up and Victoire jumped down, against the pleas of her parents. “Look, Freddy, look! Auntie Min taught me how to catch gnomes!”

A little dark haired boy ran up to Victoire, peeking into her pocket. “Will you teach me, Vicky?”

“You have to pretend to be asleep,” Victoire instructed, very matter of factly. 

“Of all the things you could have taught her,” Bill grumbled, watching the two kids huddled together. 

Hermione grinned as she went to the kitchen. She washed up and helped Molly carry out all the food to a buffet table. Before the last dish hit the tabletop, a rush of people descended on the food. Hermione squeezed her way out and went to grab the last plate left on the picnic tables. A flash of white blond hair stuck out like a sore thumb amidst a sea of red. 

Draco was standing at the edge of the group, beside Harry. Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, knowing she would have to swallow her stubborn pride and apologize to him that evening. She decided to wait until after the excitement of dinner calmed down. 

She noticed, during dinner, Draco acted a bit awkward, like he wasn’t quite certain of his place. He spoke amicably with some of the Weasleys, but appeared surprised and overwhelmed at Molly’s niceties. She assumed that he, like her, had expected a cold welcome for past transgressions. 

After dinner, the bridal party gathered with their desserts, to discuss Ginny’s hen night. Besides Hermione, the other bridesmaids included Fleur, Angelina, Luna, and two fellow Harpy players- Gwenog Jones and Alicia Spinnet, It seemed like everyone had their own idea on what to do. Hermione tracked down a quill and some parchment, and dug her glasses from her purse. 

She wrote down every suggestion thrown at her, from Quidditch match to dance clubs. Eventually she sighed, dropped her quill, and asked, “What do you want to do, Gin?”

Being the only one at the table privy to the baby news, Hermione wanted to get a beat on what her friend would be most comfortable with, knowing that drinking would be out of the question for her.

“I’m not too keen on going to a quidditch match,” Ginny started. Hermione said a silent thank you, as that idea had not been at the top of her list either. “The game takes up all my days, I want to have a fun night with my girls. I do like Luna’s idea of going to the theater, but a night to let loose in a dance club sounds fun too.”

“Let’s combine some of these ideas then,” Fleur proposed. “How about we find a fancy restaurant, for an early dinner. Then we can go catch a show. After that, we can go find a club where we can dance and drink until we can’t feel our feet.”

Hermione glanced at Ginny and watched her toil with the idea. Slowly nodding, Ginny replied, “That sounds really good. I love it!”

“All right then. I know what my job is this week,” Hermione declared. “Does next week, Friday, work for everyone?” After a chorus of affirmations, Hermione jotted down notes on what she needed to look into. A sudden squeal drew their attention to the furthest picnic table.

Bill and George sat across from their children, with globs of chocolate pudding running down their faces. Victoire and Freddy dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a night out?” Angelina muttered. The group shook their heads. “Neither do I. I need this hen night.” She grabbed a napkin and went to help clean up her husband. 

The others dispersed, leaving Hermione and Ginny at the table, to go over details.

“They’re going to expect you to have a few drinks,” Hermione warned, in a hushed tone. “How are you with pretending to be pissed?”

“As long as I have you helping me disguise my drinks, I’ve got it covered,” Ginny assured. “Thanks for taking care of everything.”

“You know me. I thrive on planning and organization.”

Ginny laughed and left the table to go find Harry. Hermione sighed, folding up the parchment and stuffing it in her bag. She spotted Draco, alone in a lawn chair, nursing a beer. Hermione went over and sat down in the chair next to him.

“Granger,” he acknowledged, not looking directly at her.

For a second, Hermione debated on the merits of being a coward and just running away. That wouldn’t be very Gryffindor-like though. She forced herself to stay put, knowing she owed him an apology.

“I know I’m not exactly the person you want to see at the moment,” Hermione started. “But I wanted to say two things to you before the night ends.” Draco finally looked at her, without saying anything else, so Hermione proceeded. “First, I’m sorry for the way I treated you yesterday. You didn’t deserve it.” Hermione took a deep breath before adding, “And also, thank you.” 

Draco raised his eyebrows and said, “For what?”

Hermione dropped her gaze to her legs and watched as a beetle started climbing up one. 

“For staying with me when I asked,” she finally answered. “It’s not often I sleep well, and it seemed that not being alone helped me relax. I know I’m not your first choice to share a bed with, but I appreciate the kindness.”

Hermione kept her eyes on the beetle, now tickling across her knee. She blinked back tears, looking closely at the black bug. Draco’s hand suddenly appeared, flicking the insect into the night. As he withdrew his arm, the back of his hand grazed her knee and sent shivers down her spine. 

“I never thought I’d live to see a day where I got both an apology and a thank you, from Hermione Granger,” Draco commented. “All in one night, no less.”

“Yeah, well a lot has changed in five years,” she remarked, standing up and finally looking at Draco.

“It has.” 

Hermione bit her lip, nodded, and turned away. Suddenly feeling suffocated by the large group, Hermione started for a trail that led to the nearby pond. As the pond came into view, the voices faded into the distance. She crawled onto a nearby rock and slipped her shoes off, letting her toes skim the surface of the water. 

The night had gone better than she expected. A few times, she had lost herself in the familiar company, forgetting that any time had actually passed since their last gathering. But then there were moments where reality hit her hard, reminding her of what she had let go of and what she could’ve had. Draco’s words rang in her head and found he was right- facing your demons hurt like hell.

The sound of twigs snapping caused Hermione to gasp and quickly draw her wand.

“Gonna hex me now?” Ron’s voice called. His figure came into clear view as he walked along the water’s edge, towards her. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s crossed my mind,” Hermione muttered to herself, dropping her wand back to her side. 

“I saw you run off, after talking to Draco, and wanted to make sure you were all right,” Ron said, stopping right beside the rock Hermione was sat on.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Hermione assured. “I just had to apologize to him. Then the group of people got to be a bit much, so here I am.”

“Apologize? To Malfoy?” Ron spat. “What on earth would you have to apologize to that prat for.”

“Because I was actually the one being a prat. Not that it’s really any of your business.”

“You’re best just staying away from him altogether,” Ron warned, kicking a stone into the pond and sending ripples across the water.

“Thanks, but seeing as though I’m a fairly intelligent adult, I’m pretty sure I can make my own decisions about who I interact with.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Ron snapped. “But, it’s Malfoy. The boy that called you mudblood and let Death Eaters into our school! The one who was supposed to kill Dumbledore!”

“I’m not stupid Ronald. I haven’t forgotten the past,” Hermione growled, pushing herself from the rock. “As much as I’ve been trying not to, I remember everything!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter, really, does it? You’ll take it the wrong way, no matter how I mean it.” Hermione picked up her shoes and started to stalk off.

“It didn’t have to be this way you know!” Ron called after her. “You’re the one that left.”

Hermione’s blood boiled over and she stomped back until she was directly in front of Ron.

“And what way would you have preferred it Ronald? You and I continuing with our farce of a marriage, fighting and throwing shit at each other? You might have been happy to prattle on like that, but I needed more! I couldn’t stand the sight of you and your touch repulsed me. That’s not how you're supposed to feel about your husband!”

“So, what, now you’re just going to move on to Malfoy?”

“Do you have a fucking filter in your head Ronald Weasley?” Hermione screamed, frustrated beyond belief. “What, or who, I do now is none of your business. You’re called an ex-husband for a reason! You have EXITED my life.” Resisting the urge to kick him in the shin, Hermione turned and ran back to The Burrow.

As she came into the garden, she was met with a few quizzical looks and assumed her yelling had reached the party. Hurriedly assuring Ginny and Molly that she was fine, she said good night and promised Molly that she would be back for another visit soon. Without speaking to anyone else, Hermione hurried down the dirt path and into the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Well, he had made it through the evening without being cursed by a Weasley. Draco felt comfortable putting that down as a win. And, as an added bonus, Hermione Granger had come down off her high horse and not only apologized, but thanked him for the evening of the stag night. He felt a bit guilty putting that in the win column, though. It had been satisfying at first, but watching her wander off into the dark field, alone and melancholy, dampened his high.

And now, he had sat for the last five minutes listening to distant arguing. Weasley had gone off, after Hermione, and it appeared that he had found her. A shrill scream turned the heads of the others guests and Harry darted for the trail. 

“Potter, wait,” Draco called. Harry slowed and looked back at Draco, confused. “Granger and Weasley are just having a row. I’d give them a minute or two before trying to interfere.”

Harry slowly walked away, glancing back at the trail every few seconds. As Draco had predicted, a minute later Hermione came barreling up the trail. She quickly slowed when everyone looked at her, but said nothing and beelined for the kitchen. He heard her say a muffled goodbye to Ginny and Molly. Then, without another word to anyone else, she reemerged and walked off down the lane. 

Just as Hermione was swallowed up in the darkness, Ron came stomping out of the field. He glared at Draco, but, like his sparring partner, said not a word and went inside the house. 

“I think this is my cue to bugger off,” Draco sighed to himself. He found Arthur and Molly and thanked them for the food and hospitality. After bidding farewell to Harry and Ginny, Draco set off down the path. Instead of apparating back home, he took his time and walked the short length of road into the small town. 

Ottery St. Catchpole didn’t play host to much. He knew a couple of wizarding families lived on the outskirts and there were a few small muggle shops in the village square. Draco took a quick look around. All the storefronts had been closed up for the evening. His gaze rested on a small pub that was still lit up, with a low rumble of voices emanating from it. He made his way into the pub and had his suspicions confirmed.

“Could I get a bourbon, on the rocks,” Draco requested, at the bar. “And also another of whatever the brunette in the corner is having.” The bartender poured out a generous tumbler of bourbon and then, to Draco’s amusement, poured out a quick shot of tequila. Draco laid a few muggle bills on the counter and nodded, saying, “Much appreciated.”

After weaving through a few other swaying patrons, Draco slid into the curved booth beside Hermione. She was rolling an empty shot glass between her palms and didn’t look up when Draco sat down.

“I won’t lie, Granger. I didn’t take you for a tequila connoisseur,” he quipped, pushing the fresh shot to her.

“You know Malfoy, the point of coming to a muggle bar is to get away from wizards,” Hermione muttered. She rolled her empty glass away and accepted Draco’s offering. “How’d you find me anyway? Put a tracking spell on my sweater?”

Draco’s lips twitched upwards as he watched her toss back the shot and bite into a lime wedge. He was starting to think there was more to this girl than the swotty one he remembered from Hogwarts. She sank back, into the faux leather cushioning, and gave him a blank stare.

“I didn’t hear you apparate,” Draco replied. “Figured you wouldn’t have walked too far in those heels. What’s brought you here?” As if he didn’t already know that answer.

“Well, before I try to face my demons, I thought I would attempt to drown them and then have them shagged out of me.”

“No offense to these fine people, but I don’t think you’re gonna find a decent shag here, darling”

“I thought he had some potential.” Draco followed Hermione’s nod to a man in the corner, playing Snooker. 

“Oh, you mean the balding guy, with an overbite? Yes, I can see the appeal in that one.” Draco raised his glass to Hermione and took a sip.

“You’re right. Might need another shot to get through that one.” Hermione signaled to the bartender for another drink, before turning back to Draco. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Thought I would pop in and remind you that your ex-husband is an arse and you can do much better than him. He’s a fool for letting someone so pretty and intelligent slip away.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Hermione teased, arching her eyebrows.

“You’re better than that, Granger.”

“Than what?”

“Fishing for shallow compliments.”

“You’re the one offering up the shallow compliment,” Hermione countered, throwing back her third shot. She bit into another lime and sucked out the juice in a way that gave Draco goosebumps.

“I mean that standards of beauty always seemed to come last for you. I didn’t know you very well in school, of course, but I know that you prided yourself on more important qualities.” Draco swirled his drink, clinking the ice cubes together. “That’s besides the point. Why do you let him get to you so easily?”

Hermione groaned and shook her head. She yanked a flower clip from her hair and tossed it on the table, so she should run her hand through her hair.

“It’s because he thinks he still knows me so well. There was a time when he knew me better than anyone, but I’ve changed quite bit in the last two years and he knows virtually nothing about my life anymore. He doesn’t know the shit I’ve gone through, mentally and physically. He doesn’t know what new insecurities he left me with and how I doubt all of my decisions now. I used to think of myself as strong and independent. I helped win a war, for fuck’s sake! Somehow, over the years, he’s taken that away from me and, yet, he still has the balls to think he can tell me what to do!” Hermione was breathing hard, hands clenched on the edge of the table. 

“What’s he trying to tell you to do?”

Hermione looked at him, a smug smile spreading over her face. “He told me I should stay away from you.”

“That would explain the death stare I got.” Draco grinned and downed the last of his drink. “To his credit though, that is good advice.”

Hermione ran a finger over the rim of her shot glass and blew a wisp of hair from her face. Draco got the feeling she hadn’t shared her whole story with him the other evening. He wasn’t about to press her for information, but he could see it hurt her, and that Ron was oblivious to whatever it was. Slowly he reached over and placed his hand on her clenched fingers. The action must have startled her because she jerked her hand away.

“Can I show you something?” he asked. Hermione nodded and Draco started to undo the cuff of his left sleeve. He rolled the sleeve up to his elbow, exposing a harsh red and lumpy scar that covered most of his forearm. 

“Is that where…” Hermione trailed off, raising her hand as if she was about to touch it, but then quickly retracting her fingertips.

“You can touch it. It doesn’t hurt.” Hermione gently ran her fingertips over the scarred landscape, and Draco let his arm relax a little at her touch.”I had the Ministry remove it as soon as I could. They ended up having to slowly burn layers of skin away until I was left with this.”

“Surely someone from St. Mungo’s could fix it, so that it didn’t leave such a nasty scar.”

“It was dark magic, bound to leave a scar. But, yes, I could have had it fixed up so that it wasn’t quite so noticeable. I don’t want to though.” 

“Why not?”

“It’s a reminder of why I am, who I am, today,” Draco replied, rolling his sleeve back down. “It shows me how far I’ve come and what I never want to go back to. It reminds me of why it’s for the best that I keep my distance from my father. It’s part of who I am, whether I like it or not. Trying to fix it up so that it’s smooth and nice feels like I’m trying to smooth over my past mistakes, and I’m not. The past happened. I can’t change that. But I remember it, and make myself better because of it.”

“Whatever you have in your past isn’t going to change, Granger. You can run from it, drown your sorrows, and shag yourself silly. But it’ll always be there. Figure out how you can use it to make you better. As for Ron…he can’t take anything away from you if you don’t let him.”

Hermione sat and stared at him, studying his face. Her own was passive and unblinking. Draco couldn’t get a read on what was going through her mind. Which is why he was so shocked when she grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him forward, until his lips met hers.

Her lips were warm and smooth. Draco didn’t even realize he had parted his own, and invited her in, until her tongue caressed his. He could taste the bitter tequila and sour citrus, somehow mingled with sweet cherry. Hermione’s tongue explored the crevices of his mouth, while her hands rose from his collar to his neck and into his hair. 

Draco groaned and reluctantly pulled away. “You don’t want to do this, Granger.”

“How come?” she asked breathlessly, her hands still in his hair.

“I’m not a relationship kind of guy. Never been good with feelings, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? All I want is a good shag. And, as you kindly pointed out, the crowd tonight don’t exactly look like headboard rattlers.” Hermione pursed her lips and let her fingers skim along his ears. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Draco quelled it with another kiss, this time more forceful. He pushed her against the back of the booth and let his own tongue do some exploring. She nibbled on his bottom lip and Draco moaned in anguish. Part of him was screaming that to move forward would be a horrible decision. A larger part of him drowned out those screams in a desire to take her right there and then, in the pub booth.

“Plus,” Hermione whispered, licking his upper lip on her last syllable. “It’ll piss Ron off to no end if he finds out.”

And there was the clincher. Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the booth, throwing a few extra pounds on the table. He led the way out of the pub and found a dark alley way.

“I’d prefer to go somewhere a little more private,” Hermione sniffed, warily glancing at the overturned dustbins and dirty building walls.

“For fuck’s sake, Granger. We’re not going to do it here, like a couple of bloody strays,” Draco growled. “I just wanted a safe place to apparate. Grab on.”

“Right, sorry.” Hermione clutched his arm and he quickly turned on the spot.

The next second, they were side by side in the living room of his London flat. For an apartment in London, it was big and extravagant. Compared to the the manor that he grew up in, his current living space was quite modest. Draco outfitted it with the latest, top of the line accessories, but space wise it was only two bedrooms, with a decent eat-in kitchen and living room with a fireplace.

He watched as Hermione took a moment to look around and assess the new surroundings. He was prepared to be bombarded with questions about the flat. She looked at him with a spark of insanity in her eyes and Draco thought, for a split second, that she was regretting her decision and was about to apparate out. Instead, she tossed her purse aside and leapt onto him.

Draco caught her, stumbling a few steps before regaining his balance. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and covered his lips once more with hers. He pulled her close as her hands caressed his cheeks and she suckled at his bottom lip. 

Supporting her back with one hand, and undoing her dress zipper with the other, Draco carried her into his bedroom. Hermione kicked off her shoes and unwound her legs from his waist. Gently placing her feet on the floor, she stood on her own and let the yellow sundress slip from her body, revealing a strapless white bra and lacy white panties. 

“Very virginal, Granger,” Draco purred, running his hands over the silky skin of her stomach.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” she hissed, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close. Despite the three shots of tequila, her hands worked quickly and accurately at undoing his buttons. 

“You  _ do _ get off on giving orders,” he smirked, shucking off his shirt and tossing it aside. 

“And this surprises you?” Hermione leaned in and started flicking her tongue along his neck while she worked his belt loose. 

“No, I just find it insanely hot when a woman knows what she wants,” Draco countered. He moved his hands down to her bum and squeezed, adding, “And then takes it.”

Hermione’s breath hitched and she she sucked hard on a spot right below his ear. His trousers finally dropped to the floor and he kicked them away.

She shoved him backwards and Draco toppled onto the bed. Grabbing the top of his boxers, Hermione’s voice was sultry, yet urgent as she demanded, “I want to see all of you.” Slowly, she worked his pants over his erection and down his legs, then tossed them over her shoulder.

“Tit for tat, my dear.”

Without argument, Hermione stepped out of her panties and reached up to undo her bra, finally exposing her perky tits and stiff pink nipples. She crawled up onto the bed, straddling his waist and letting her bum rest against his throbbing cock. Her hands grazed up and down his chest, with her fingertips teasing the edge of his own nipples. Draco reached up to cup her breasts. He had just placed a thumb on each aroused peak, when she dragged his hands back down and held them over his head. She left one of her hands to hold his steady, while her other returned to ravage his chest. 

Hermione’s hold on his hands wasn’t strong. Draco could have easily broken free and overtaken her, but he was mesmerized by her confidence. Apparently, she hadn’t had it all taken from her. 

Her hips slowly started gyrating, sliding his package along the groove of her arse. Just when he thought he couldn’t get any harder, he felt her juices dripping down to his own arse. Hermione leaned forward to swirl her tongue around his nipples, allowing his cock to slip back and pulse against her moist folds. 

Draco ached to be inside her, grinding his hips in sync with with her gyrations. Taking his hint, Hermione used her left hand to move his fingers back to her breasts, while wrapping her right around his shaft and guiding it into her silky sheath.

Her warmth and tightness forced a growl from Draco’s throat. He tugged her forward and let his tongue flicker over her nipples. Hermione hummed in pleasure, ducking her head so that a few wispy curls tickled Draco’s nose.  

Placing her hands firmly on his shoulders, Hermione settled her lithe body into a hypnotic motion. Every flex of her hips against his sent a wave up her glowing figure. Her eyes were closed, damp curls clinging to her cheeks. Draco started gently rocking his hips, creating a rhythm that devolved her moans into whimpers. 

Hermione’s breath became ragged as she accelerated her speed. Draco could tell she was close to melting, but he didn’t want to let her dissolve quite yet.

In one quick motion, Draco grasped Hermione’s hips and rolled her onto her back, so that he was on his knees and straddling her hips. He quickly dipped his cock into her mound, only to swiftly pull it back out. After repeating that a few more times, Hermione’s eyes were shut tight and she was chewing on her lower lip. Slipping out once more, Draco bent low and sucked her bottom lip between his. A quick bite that made her gurgle, and he released. 

“You….tease….” she panted. She tangled her fingers into his hair and yanked his head back to her hungry lips. Fiercely shoving her tongue to the back of his mouth, she devoured his kiss. Pressing her palms against his cheeks, she breathed, “Make me come….please….”

Grasping his shaft, he slowly circled his tip around her clit, making her writhe beneath him. Her hips rose to meet him, begging for release. Draco stilled for a moment and watched as beads of sweat slithered down the valley of her breasts. Before she could plead for mercy again, he plunged deep into her, sending a shudder through both their bodies. 

Draco started out painfully slow, knowing that he himself was on the edge of eruption. Hermione had a fiery, manic look in her eyes as her lips formed a perfect circle, and he was enjoying the look. As his thrusts quickened, her hands flew above her head, palms flat on the headboard as she braced herself. Her legs wound around his waist, lifting her pelvis and burying him deeper than he had imagined possible, sending him to the brink of bursting.

“Don’t stop….right there….” Hermione rasped. Draco seized her hips, with a growl, and plowed harder, faster, until he felt her walls quiver. “Yes..yes…yes…” she urged with each thrust, until a final, climatic “YES!” erupted from somewhere deep within. 

Hermione’s walls tightened and then shattered around Draco, drenching his entire cock with her essence. Clenching the sheets, he gave one final thrust and filled the trembling witch, before doubling over, on top of her. He buried his face her neck, letting his moans of pleasure get lost in her hair. 

He kissed and sucked a trail from her ear to her neck, and then to her lips. She parted her lips, her warm mouth welcoming his. Slowly he broke from her lips, and kissed a trail down to the other side of her neck.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, breathlessly. “I needed that more than you’ll ever know.”

Draco rolled onto the mattress and propped himself up on an elbow. “You surprise me, Granger. I never would have guessed this is what you’re like when you let your hair down.”

“If you would have taken the time, I probably could have surprised you years ago.”

“I was an idiot.”

“You’re still an idiot, Malfoy. Just a nicer one.” She smirked as she fell back on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Shaking his head, he pulled the duvet over them. Within a minute, Hermione’s body had relaxed into slumber. He fell asleep studying the lines on her face, wondering what she was hiding from the world.

Draco was woken by his alarm at five the next morning. He rolled from his stomach towards Hermione, only to find nothing but empty space. She had already woken and left.


	6. Chapter 6

“What was I thinking?” Hermione grumbled, falling onto her bed, back at Harry and Ginny’s. She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Of all the people, in all of bloody England, I had to go jump in bed with Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione’s mind and her body were at war with each other. Her mind was screaming at her for being so impetuous. Alcohol and sex were, of course, going to solve nothing. But it had been so long since she’d had both…. And Malfoy wasn’t exactly unattractive. Quite the opposite actually. His white blonde hair had been cut short and it helped to soften his features, compared to the slicked back, pompous look he’d had in school. Then, when she got his clothes off, Merlin help her! Every inch of him was defined muscled, and she just couldn’t resist running her hands over every nook and cranny. 

Yes, the physical attraction was definitely there. But, if she was really honest with herself, what had lowered her defenses was how easy he was to talk to. Never once did it feel like he was putting up a front, and he was bluntly honest with her. She was sure that he didn’t show his dark mark scar to everyone he met. She had finally been able to appreciate how much he had changed in the last five years.

And who was she kidding, the sex was good! Amazing, even! Not that she had much to compare it to. She had just bookended a multi-year drought. She had needed the sex; the touch, the rush, the relief it brought. The fact that sex with Draco Malfoy came with no attachments was the perfect package. 

“Ooh, perfection in the package indeed,” Hermione murmured, pulling herself from the bed, with a grin. She stripped off her rumpled dress and headed for the bathroom. Letting the water rise barely above the temperature of ice, she stepped in and cooled down her raging libido that had awaken at the thought of Draco’s package. Afterwards, she left her wet towel on the floor, and started back to her room. 

She barely made it two steps into the hall before seeing Draco, dressed in his Ministry robes, standing in her doorway.

“Malfoy! What the fuck?” she shrieked, turning back to the bathroom. The door promptly slammed in her face. Letting out another frustrated cry, she turned to see Draco twirling his wand. “What are you playing at? Can I at least get my towel?”

“No,” he answered, simply. “You left me,” he accused, pointing his wand towards her.

“And now you’re going to curse me?” Draco lowered his wand quickly, but didn’t break his gaze on her. “I thought of all people, you would know what a one night stand entails,” Hermione sighed, walking towards him. He shifted uncomfortably as she got near. “Can I at least get some clothes?” Draco moved aside and let her pass.

“I’ve had plenty of one night stands, Granger. I know exactly how they work.  It’s just never…” he trailed off, as Hermione slipped on a clean bra and knickers. “Never mind,” he muttered, turning to leave.  

“You’re the one that said no feelings,” she called, walking after him.

Draco laughed, and Hermione felt a slight pain at the mocking tone. “It’s not that. Forget it.”

It finally dawned on Hermione what was irritating him. He wasn’t used to being the one left.

“I guess it was a first for both of us,” she said, softly. 

He stopped and stared at her for a second. She could see his steely eyes trying to work out the meaning behind her statement, but he left the question unspoken. She watched as his blonde hair disappeared down the steps.

That day she sat and mapped out possibilities for Ginny’s hen night. She knew that she would have to venture into London and scope out restaurants and shows. Those places didn’t really matter, location wise. Hermione just wanted to try and keep the dance club within walking distance to the Leaky Cauldron, so everyone could safely floo home. She wasn’t too keen on shoving a bunch of drunk witches into a muggle taxi cab, to take them to what the drivers would see as an abandoned, run down building. The idea of the Knight Bus briefly crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. The Knight Bus on a strong, empty stomach was risky. She didn’t even want to imagine what it would be like paired with no sense of balance and a stomach full of alcohol.

That Tuesday was a free day for Ginny, so she accompanied Hermione into London. They were intent on at least securing tickets to a show, and luckily they didn’t have to look far. The Drury Lane Theater was running a production of My Fair Lady.

“Oh, I remember mum and dad taking me to see this when I was ten,” Hermione said, looking at the show’s poster. A pang of sadness gnawed at her, remembering the afternoon out with her parents. “It’s a fun show and I think the other girls will like it,” she continued, glancing over at Ginny. 

“All right, let’s get the tickets, and then find some lunch. I’m starving,” Ginny moaned. 

“That’s because all you had was toast for breakfast,” Hermione scolded, queuing up in the ticket line.

“You would too if you spent your entire morning retching.”

Hermione grimaced and rubbed her friend’s back. “I know the feeling,” she muttered.

“Morning sickness is a bitch,” Ginny grumbled.

With tickets in hand, the two girls found a small diner, a few blocks away, with an available booth. After placing their orders, Hermione smiled at Ginny and sympathized, “The first month or so is the worst. So I’ve heard,” she quickly added.

“Yeah, I remember when Fleur and Ang were pregnant, they said their first trimesters were the harshest. I never really understood why, always thinking the last would be the worst, with being as big as a house,” Ginny explained, holding her hands out in front of her stomach in demonstration. “But no, I think throwing up every damn morning is pretty bad.

Though, Harry actually stopped at a muggle bookstore and got me a book called What To Expect When You’re Expecting. Reading ahead, the rest of the process doesn’t seem too appealing either.”

“You’re a tough cookie. You’ll get through it,” Hermione reassured, giving Ginny’s hand a squeeze. “Are you guys going to find out if it’s a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t really care, but I have a feeling Harry will want to know as soon as possible. You know how he has to have all the details, about everything”

“He just likes to prepare for every contingency. Can’t really fault him for it. Can I make my prediction now?”

“Go for it Sybil.”

Hermione scrunched her nose at the comparison to their former Divination teacher, making Ginny giggle. She leaned over the table and placed her hands on Ginny’s belly, closing her eyes for affect. 

“In your future….I see….a bouncing baby….boy!” Hermione declared. “And he’ll look exactly like his father.”

Ginny laughed and said, “I can live with that.”

“Girl or boy, your child will be gorgeous.” Hermione sat back down and grinned at her friend. “I can’t believe you guys are going to be parents! I wish I could be here to see that.”

“Not like you couldn’t,” Ginny replied, shifting her gaze upwards as she sipped her water. “I’m positive Kingsley would welcome you back in a heartbeat.”

“Let’s not go there,” Hermione warned. “The reason I left England is still in England. And he’s none too happy with me still. Not that I’m pleased with him either, after Sunday.”

“My brother’s a prat. You knew this when you married him, and it’s why you divorced him. I’m sure what you’re feeling right now is just the shock of seeing each other for the first time in two years.”

“I like New York, though. I’ve built up a life and career over there,” Hermione insisted. “I have a new position waiting for me when I get back, and I’ll actually get to move out of that closet I call a flat.”

“I know, it’s just that….” Ginny pursed her lips and her eyes glistened with tears. “I miss you so much, Min. It hasn’t been the same here, with you gone. And now…. now everything is going to change again!” Ginny’s tears were flowing freely now and she blew her nose into her napkin.

“Oh, don’t cry please!” Hermione rushed around to sit beside Ginny and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry, I know how hard it must be.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Ginny sniffled. “So many damn hormones and I can’t control any of my emotions. You know, I broke down last night, before bed, because Harry had gotten cinnamon toothpaste instead of peppermint. I never saw him so confused and helpless!”

“You’re fine, don’t apologize for anything,” Hermione soothed, stroking Ginny’s hair. “You know I will be back over here as soon as this kid makes his or her grand entrance.”

“I know,” Ginny sniffed, drying her eyes. “And you’ll be the most awesome Godmother ever. I just really, really miss you.”

“I miss you guys too,” she whispered, tears now sliding down her own cheeks. “I promise I’ll start coming back here more often and not make you guys do all the traveling.”

Once they composed themselves, Hermione moved back to her seat just as their food arrived. 

Hermione frowned at her sandwich. She had insisted ‘no mayonnaise’, yet mayo dripped off the sides. “Every time,” she mumbled, attempting to scrape it off on the side of her plate. 

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Ginny started, drowning her chips in vinegar. “Where’d you get that kinky little mark on your neck?” Hermione’s hand flew to the spot just below her ear and Ginny smirked. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you never returned home Sunday night.”

“I had a few drinks at the bar, and then had a little fun…” Hermione answered, concentrating hard on her sandwich. 

Ginny shook her head and grinned. “Mmm hmm…. So, will you be calling on this gentlemen again?”

“Very doubtful. Let’s just leave it at that it had been a while and when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t pass it up.”

“Okay, if that’s all you’re gonna offer up, I’ll have to do some sleuthing of my own.”

“Nothing to sleuth sweetheart,” Hermione insisted, nicking Ginny’s discarded pickle. “Just a fun little fling.”

“Yeah, well I’d like to know who flung you,” Ginny said, waggling her eyebrows.

After lunch, they walked up and down Catherine street, debating on which restaurant would be best for the hen night. After two loops, they finally settled on an upscale French restaurant that appeared to be quite popular. They were relieved to be able to snag an early reservation for the following week.

“And if we have any questions about the menu, we’ve got Fleur to save us,” Ginny declared, as they set off again, this time in search of a safe apparition point. 

By Thursday, Hermione had everything planned, reserved, and good to go. The muggle club she found was about a four block walk away from the Leaky Cauldron. Neville had assured her that he’d be awake, closing up shop, and that they would be more than welcome to floo home from there. She was hoping four blocks wasn’t too much of a gamble for their large group. Ginny would most likely be the only sober one of the bunch, though she’d have to put on a drunken front. Needless to say it was going to be quite the evening. 

Hermione relaxed on the couch with a book, happy to have the hen night planning under her belt. Three chapters into her millionth reading of  _ Jane Eyre _ , Hermione startled at the sound of the floo. Harry’s head appeared in the green flames, grinning at her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized.

“It’s okay. What’s up?” Hermione asked, placing her bookmark in the novel and sitting up.

“Ginny just floo called me and said that she is inviting the whole wedding party to the house, for dinner…..tonight,” Harry grimaced. “Apparently she has ‘something exciting in store’ for us.”

“The last time she said that, she told you she was pregnant. Did she find out it’s twins now?” Hermione joked.

Even through the emerald flames, Hermione could see Harry’s face pale. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, but it was worth it for the look on your face,” Hermione snickered. “So, let me guess, you have almost twenty people coming over, but no food?”

“Do you mind?”

“Even I’m not a miracle worker, Harry Potter,” Hermione scolded. She sighed, and continued, “But I could probably put together a few lasagnas by this evening.”

“You’re the best Min! People should start rolling in around five-thirty. I’m stuck here until six.”

“I won’t have enough time to make my own sauce. You’ll have to get by on store bought,” Hermione warned.

“We all have to make sacrifices I guess,” Harry laughed. “But, no, that sounds brilliant. Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” Hermione smiled. “Get back to work. I have to go shopping.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Draco was ready for this week to be over already. He started it off irritated, and the feeling had lingered. His schedule had been filled with endless meetings and paperwork. And to top it off he had gotten called in to advise on an Auror case. At least they just wanted him to help review the details and give his opinions on it. People always seemed surprised when he said he had no desire to be in the field with the Aurors, squelching out dark magic, but it was the truth. He much preferred being alone, in the lab, tinkering with potions.

He wasn’t able to focus his mind on his files or monotone co-workers droning on about pointless topics. He kept coming back to Hermione’s comment about Sunday night being a first for both of them. What could she have meant? It certainly wasn’t his first time sleeping with someone. Surely she knew that. And while he couldn’t be certain, he was quite sure it hadn’t been her first either, seeing as how she had been married for almost three years. It also wasn’t like they had done anything spectacularly kinky that wouldn’t normally happen during sex.

So what had she meant? How would she know what any of his firsts were anyway. She barely knew anything about him! And why the fuck was this irritating him so much?! Just another example of how Hermione Granger could get under his skin. 

Draco looked at the clock. It was just before five o’clock. Harry wouldn’t be home for their sudden wedding party dinner until six. Draco had planned on waiting for him, but thought he might drop in early on Hermione, and find out what exactly she had meant with her statement. Then maybe his mind might be able to rest easy. He scribbled a quick note on his Ministry parchment, and sent it flying to Harry’s office, letting him know not to wait.

He apparated to just outside of Harry and Ginny’s garden gate and let himself into the house. Music was blasting from the record player and he could hear Hermione singing in the kitchen, while the smells of Italian spices and baking cheese filled the air. 

Draco rounded the corner and found Hermione at the kitchen island, back turned and unaware that she was no longer alone. She was chopping up lettuce as she danced and sang.

“So hold me tight, tonight,” she sang, swishing her hips. “It’s you, you, you, you ooo ooo.” Swish, swish went the hips again. She was in a snug, blue t-shirt, that fell to just the top of faded jean shorts. Draco was mesmerized, his whole reason for arriving early going out the window. “Hold me tight.” Swish. “Let me go on loving you.” Swish, swish. “Making love to only you.” Swish.

Dammit. How could she be so damn irritating, yet stunningly sexy? It annoyed him to no end. He glared at her backside as she continued her tantalizing swishing and singing. 

“Are you going to stare at my arse all night, or do you plan on making yourself useful?” Hermione suddenly asked, without looking back.

“Eyes in the back of your head now, Granger?” Draco sneered, walking over to the island.

“Saw your reflection in the fridge,” Hermione explained, handing him a tomato. “Is it within your skill set to dice this up for a salad?”

“I think I can manage,” he replied, pulling a knife from the drawer. He started slicing as Hermione peeled carrots. “So you shake your arse like that for everyone then?”

“I’m glad you enjoyed the show, but I wasn’t ‘shaking my arse’ for anyone. I was enjoying the song. You’re the one that was leering.”

“Hard not to,” Draco mumbled, staring at his tomato. He chanced a quick glance and saw a little smirk play across her lips. Merlin, she was infuriating! He knew the Hermione Granger from school would be beet red by now. This Hermione Granger seemed unfazed by anything he threw at her. He could tell he was able to irritate her just as much, but to her credit she could give and good as she got. In more ways than one….

“Fuck!” Draco shouted. Lost in thought, he forgot to pay attention to what he was slicing, and the knife had just gone across his left thumb. Bright red blood dripped onto the butcher block.

“Jesus Malfoy!” Hermione cried. She grabbed a tea towel and wrapped it around the cut, dragging him to the table. “Hold that on there,” she instructed. She performed a quick cleaning spell on the island, siphoning up the blood, before opening up the medicine cabinet, above the cooker. “Can’t even trust you to cut up vegetables….”

“Fruit.”

“What?” she asked, exasperated, as she brought a small, brown bottle of Dittany to him.

“Tomatoes are fruit. I was cutting up fruit.”

Hermione scowled. “You want your finger fixed or not?”

Draco winced as she unwrapped the towel from his thumb. It immediately started bleeding again. Quickly, Hermione dropped the Dittany along the clean cut and the skin melded back together, leaving a thin white line.

“Thank you,” Draco said, standing up and heading to the sink, to wash up.

“No problem,” Hermione replied, as she replaced the Dittany bottle. “I just have to remember, in the future, to arm you with nothing sharper than a bottle brush.”

It was Draco’s turn to scowl as he looked around the kitchen. “How are we planning on fitting everyone in here? There’s what, fourteen of us? Plus two little ones?”

“We’ll pull a Weasley and enlarge the picnic tables out back,” Hermione explained, finishing up the salad. “Do you think you could do that, without losing a limb?”

“I don’t appreciate the cheek, Granger,” Draco sneered.

“You didn’t seem to mind it the other night,” she countered, opening up the oven.

Without a reply, Draco stalked to the back yard. He summoned Harry’s two picnic tables together, on the large grassy area beside the pool. A quick wand flick, and they expanded to allow the group to sit together comfortably. Another flick, and the tops were cloaked in blue linen cloths. He returned to the kitchen, to cries of “Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!”

Bill and George’s children ran in, their eyes big and searching. When they saw that Harry wasn’t there, their faces fell.

“He’ll be home soon,” Hermione reassured. “I’m so glad you’re here though! I was just thinking about how I could use two big helpers to set the tables. Do you know where I might find some?”

“We can do it! Can we help?” Victoire and Freddy yelled. Hermione handed Victoire a basket of folded napkins and Freddy a basket of forks and butter knives. 

“Now, put the napkin down first, and then place the fork and knife on top,” Hermione explained. The two dashed into the back garden. 

George pulled a stack of plates from the cupboard and said, “I’ll take these and go oversee operations.”

Draco sat down at the kitchen table and watched as Hermione greeted guests and pulled pan after pan of lasagna from the over. Along with the lasagna, she had prepared a salad, homemade garlic bread, and tiramisu. She floated a tray of red wine, pumpkin juice, and ice water to the tables and mixed up a quick vinaigrette for the salad.

“How do you do all this?” Draco asked. He couldn’t help but be amazed by the meal. Growing up, he was always served delicious meals, but they were cooked by house elves. He couldn’t remember his mother ever stepping foot in the kitchen to even get herself a drink, let alone cook something.

“I like to cook,” Hermione said, passing Angelina a tray of goblets. “It’s a good escape.”

“Escape from what?”

“My mind. It let’s me have tunnel vision and not focus on the zillion other things that tend to stress me out. Speaking of which…” Hermione trailed off, turning to the fridge. Draco looked over and saw Ron walk in. 

“Evening Weasley,” Draco greeted, politely. 

Ron ignored both of them and walked straight through to the back yard.

“Merlin Min!” Harry cried, coming into the kitchen, with Ginny on his heels. “All you had to make was lasagna! We didn’t need a three course meal.”

“You should know by now, if I’m going to feed you, I’m going to do it properly,” Hermione insisted. 

“Has my mother possessed you?” Ginny asked, placing her hand on Hermione’s forehead. 

“Go sit down,” Hermione laughed, motioning them to the back door.

Harry and Ginny exited to the garden and were instantly assaulted by Victoire and Freddy, asking to go swimming.

“Why do they call you Min?” Draco asked, suddenly curious. Hermione looked up at him in surprise, dropping the pepper mill. Draco quickly reached out and caught it before it hit the floor.

“Victoire couldn’t say Hermione, when she was learning to talk. But, she could already say Gin, so I became Min. And it’s just a name that’s kinda stuck in the family. Do you mind?” she said, handing Draco the salt shaker. “Thanks, I just need to get the butter.”

Draco followed her out to the tables, and they took the last two seats at the end, across from each other. Baskets of garlic bread were being passed around and Harry was doling out generous portions of lasagna.

“Thank you so much for all this Hermione,” Ginny gushed. “It looks delicious.”

Hermione blushed and nodded, saying, “It was really no problem. I think we’re anxious to hear what you have planned for all of us though.”

Ginny grinned and clapped her hands together, but before she could speak, Victoire interrupted.

“Auntie Min, what is this?” the little girl asked, shooting a disgusted look at her plate. 

Hermione laughed and leaned towards Victoire. “It’s called lasagna. I promise, it’s yummy.” The tiny blonde continued to warily stare at the pasta. “Tell you what. Give it a try. If you don’t like it, I’ll make you one of my famous toasted cheese sandwiches.”

“It’s good Vicky!” Freddy yelled, spraying bits of food onto his father’s shoulder.

“I swear, you’re exactly like your father,” Angela muttered, brushing a napkin over George’s shoulder.

“That’s not a bad thing, mate,” George assured, kissing the top of his son’s head.

“So, what have we all been summoned for?” Bill asked.

Ginny started grinning again and announced, “I signed us all up for dance lessons! They start next week.”

There was excited murmurings from the group, all female voices. Just about every man at the table horrifyingly glanced at Harry. Harry himself was giving Ginny a puzzled look.

“Darling, I love you, but why dance lessons?” Harry asked.

“So we don’t all look like a bunch of uncoordinated gazelles on the dance floor,” Ginny huffed, glaring at Harry.

“Pretty sure McGonagall gave us all the dance lessons we’ll ever need,” George asserted, shoveling lasagna into his mouth.

“That was almost a decade ago!” Ginny cried, swatting George’s arm. “I thought it would be a fun way to bond with each other, as we get closer to the big day, and give us the benefit of maybe not having two left feet when we have to dance in front of a hundred and fifty people.”

“I don’t dance,” Draco stated, sipping his wine.

“I dance!” Freddy squealed. In case no one believed him, the boy started wiggling his bottom on the bench and pumping his fists in the air. Hermione giggled and clapped for him, causing an ear to ear grin to spread across Freddy’s face.

Ginny sighed. “Look, it’s not mandatory. I’m not going to force anyone to go-“

“Even me?” Harry interrupted.

“You do remember you have to live with me, right?” Ginny retorted, scowling at Harry. “I booked four lessons, and they’re only a half hour long, on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I’ll give everyone the address. I think it will be a lot of fun.”

“We will be there, Ginny,” Fleur insisted, patting Bill’s hand.

Draco looked over at Hermione and found her staring at him with a smirk.

“What’s that look for, Granger?”

“I remember you dancing at the Yule Ball, with Pansy. You weren’t that bad, if I my memory is correct.”

“I don’t dance,” Draco repeated, taking a bite of his dinner. Hermione smirked again and Draco scowled. “I take it you’ll be attending these lessons?”

“It wouldn’t be like me to skip a class, now would it?” Hermione smiled, reaching for her wine goblet.

“Still such a swot.”

“And here I was actually starting to think we’d matured beyond the name calling, Malfoy,” Hermione sighed, shaking her head. 

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, letting everyone else carry on conversations and nodding their heads politely if the discussion reached them. As his irritation grew, Draco realized that he had never asked Hermione about her statement from the other morning. When she retreated to the house, to fetch the dessert, Draco followed and ambushed her.

“What did you mean Monday morning?”

Hermione stared at him and asked, “Could you be more specific.”

“I believe your exact words were ‘it was a first for both of us’. What did you mean?” Draco asked again, more forcefully.

“Is that why you’ve been such a prick all evening?” Hermione laughed, pulling the tiramisu from the fridge. “Jesus, you could have just asked me days ago, instead of acting like a scorned child.”

Draco wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. She was right of course, he had been childish. He knew he was being childish. But in his, albeit weak, defense, he didn’t really know how else to act. Passive aggressive was his mode of survival. Confronting feelings, whatever they might be, felt weak. Plus, it was the best way to get rid of witches that became too clingy, and wanted a second date.

“It was a first for me because I had never slept with someone before purely for the sex,” Hermione went on to explain. “When you confronted me the next morning, all pissed off, I got the feeling that you don’t invite women into your bed-“

“I’ve been with plenty of women, Granger.”

“Let me finish, you prat,” she snapped. “I assume you’re used to being the one that does the leaving come sunrise, and having it done to you threw you off.”

Draco gaped at her. Again, she was right. Damn, he hated how she was always right! He waited for that all-knowing smirk to grace her face, but was surprised when she just shrugged and handed him a plate of tiramisu. 

“Why do you keep staring at me, like I’m some kind of alien creature?”

“Because somehow you are able to intrigue, seduce, and annoy the fuck out of me, all within the same damn minute,” Draco lamented.

“Sounds like the perfect storm,” Hermione quipped, heading back outside.

Perfect storm indeed…

After dessert, Hermione was accosted by shouts of, “Swim with us, Auntie Min! Come swimming!”

Hermione hesitated, eyeing up the pool. “Don’t you think it’ll be a bit chilly?”

“It’s heated, don’t worry,” Draco informed. 

“Thank you, Malfoy, for blowing my only excuse.”

“Yeah, thanks Malfoy!” Freddy cried. 

Hermione dissolved into a fit of laughter, to the point of tears. Draco scowled at her. 

“Keep scowling like that, and you’ll give yourself wrinkles,” Hermione scolded, through her laughs. “Yes, I will come swimming with you. Let me go put on my suit. Who else is swimming?”

“Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron!” Victoire yelled, running for the pool.

“Walk!” Fleur called, running after her daughter.

“Brilliant,” Hermione muttered.

“So just don’t go swimming,” Draco stated, watching Hermione gaze at the pool.

“You haven’t met many children, have you?” Hermione asked, not looking back at him.

“I try to keep my distance.”

“Well, they don’t take too kindly to broken promises.” Hermione sighed and trudged to the house. 

Draco looked around at the hodgepodge of people Harry and Ginny had chosen for their wedding party. He still wasn’t quite sure where he fit in with them all. Though, to be fair, he was never really sure where he fit in at most places. He always felt like he was just hovering on the outside of social circles. But that was better than what it used to be. His family was always at the center of the wizarding elite; his father had made sure of that. Since the end of the war, Draco had distanced himself from his father and practically everything the Malfoy name had stood for. Harry had played an integral part in that, and Draco would be forever grateful. 

The back door slid open and Draco glanced up. Hermione was walking slowly towards the pool, wrapped up in a large towel.

“You do know you can’t swim in a towel, right?” Harry called, dodging Freddy’s splashing.

“Yes, I know that,” Hermione started, biting her bottom lip. She nervously glanced around and hugged her towel tighter. “Lizzie was helping me pack last week and, well, when I had my back turned, she must have swapped my swim suits. What I found in my suitcase is NOT what I had originally packed.”

“Is there something R rated under there?” Harry questioned, putting his hand over Freddy’s eyes.

“No!” Hermione hissed.

“Well, let’s see it then, Granger,” Draco urged, sitting down in a lounge chair. She sneered at him, and he shot back his most innocent smile. “You can’t break your promise to the children now, can you?”

“”Dammit, Malfoy,” she muttered, undoing her towel. Hermione slowly unwrapped herself and revealed a halter-top bikini, in various hues of shiny blue. She tossed her towel across a chair and earned a catcall from George. “Shut it, George!” she yelled, hugging herself. 

Draco shifted in his chair, more than a little turned on by Hermione’s wardrobe change. He couldn’t deny that she had a spectacular body. Every part of her was perfect. She wasn’t stick thin, like so many strived for these days. She had curves, and that bikini accentuated every one of them. 

Realizing that he was staring, very intently, Draco stood and shifted his gaze to Harry, and a slightly slack jawed Ron. 

“Potter, I’m going to bow out early. I will see you Monday, bright and early, as usual. Tell your better half that I will think about dance lessons, but I’m not promising anything.”

“Wish I had that same luxury,” Harry muttered, tossing a giggling Victoire to Ron. “Thanks for coming tonight mate. See ya next week.”

“Catch ya later, Granger,” Draco said, giving her a gentle nudge into the pool. He disapparated before she could catch her breath and scream at him.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Malfoy! You rotten little ferret!” Hermione broke the surface of the water, spluttering and fuming, glancing wildly for the blonde haired annoyance.

“He’s gone,” Harry laughed. “Here catch!”

Hermione looked back just in time to receive a flailing Victoire. 

“I like your bathing suit, Auntie Min! It’s very shiny,” Victoire giggled, poking at the strap to Hermione’s suit.

“Thank you. Yours is very pretty too,” Hermione replied, tickling the pink ruffles on the little girl’s suit. “It makes you look like a ballerina.”

“See, told ya Freddy! I’m a bal-reeeeena!”

Hermione laughed and tossed the giggling girl back to Harry. She swam from one end of the pool and then back again, stretching out her muscles. It had been a while since she had been swimming. Her and Lizzie had taken a weekend trip to Long Beach Island, in New Jersey, last summer, but they mainly just laid out in the sun and drank Sangria the entire time. She had also gotten to wear her own, sensible, one piece bathing suit. Not something that looked like she was ready for spring break in Miami Beach. 

“I want Min!” Victoire screamed, struggling against Ron’s hold. 

“It seems as though everyone does, lately,” Ron muttered.

“I’m coming,” Hermione reassured, glowering at Ron. She held her arms out to Victoire and pulled her close, as little arms wrapped around Hermione’s neck. “So, how do you like having a little sister?”

Victoire scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips to the side. “She’s cute, but she doesn’t do anything.”

Hermione laughed and bounced Victoire up and down. “Don’t worry, she will. And you get to the big sister that teaches her everything. Won’t that be fun?”

Victoire thought about it for a moment, before answering, “I’m going to teach her how to catch gnomes!”

Hermione laughed, again, and the little girl scrambled around so that she could cling onto Hermione’s back. Even though it hurt at times, Hermione loved being around kids. A few of her co-workers had little ones that came into the office sometimes, and Hermione found that for some reason they were all naturally drawn to her. She had started to keep sweets in her desk, for their visited. Growing up as an only child, with little extended family, Hermione always looked forward to the day when she would be able to have a large family of her own. A pang of guilt ripped through her, as she glanced over at Ron. He had a huge smile on his face as he dunked Freddy.

The trio swam with the kids until the sun set and little sets of teeth started chattering. George and Angelina were the last to leave, with Freddy yawning, yet insisting he wasn’t tired. Harry dried off and went to help Ginny in the kitchen, leaving just Hermione and Ron in the pool.

“You’re really great with the kids,” Ron commented, breaking the awkward silence.

“I’ve discovered, in the last year or so, that I have a knack for entertaining children,” Hermione laughed. “They do seem to adore their Uncle Ron though. I can see you being the fun uncle.”

Ron smiled and Hermione relaxed a little. Maybe they could be civil to each other. Perhaps even nice, boarding on a possible friendship.

“You ever think about us getting back together?” Ron asked, suddenly.

Never mind…..

Hermione frowned and shook her head. “No, I don’t,” she whispered.

“You’re going to tell me that you honestly don’t miss me? Miss us?”

“I miss certain things,” Hermione admitted. Ron looked at her, silent, yet expectant. Hermione sighed and continued, “I miss the things we had at the beginning of the relationship- the passion we had for each other.”

“Every honeymoon period has to end. You can’t have that fiery, new relationship feel forever.”

“No, I know that. But the passion should last. Look at Harry and Ginny. Look at your parents. The newness wears off, but the passion for one another doesn’t die. You and I were great in the beginning. Somewhere along the line we lost the passion and let things fall apart.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t moved to another country, we could have worked things out,” Ron accused.

Hermione looked at him, openmouthed and completely dumbstruck. “No! Nuh uh! You’re not pulling that bullshit with me,” she cried, glaring at him. “I tried to make things work. I wanted to go to counseling and make our marriage work. You’re the pigheaded one that refused to acknowledge anything was wrong. You don’t get to just blame me.”

“So then it’s all my fault?”

“Merlin’s sake Ronald, stop trying to play the martyr,” Hermione grumbled, swimming for the ladder. “There were two people in the marriage. I accept that I’m at just as much fault as you. At the end of the day, we both changed and grew apart. And as much as I might miss some aspects, it’s not enough to subject both of us, again, to the hell that was our marriage.”

Hermione climbed out of the pool and snatched her towel from the chair. Ron pulled himself onto the edge and glared at her.

“So you’ve moved on?”

“Yes,” Hermione lied.

“To Malfoy?”

“What is your obsession with him?” Hermione gritted, roughly running the towel over her head.

“What’s yours?” Ron spat.

“I have no obsession! I only-” Hermione caught herself before she could let slip her and Draco’s rendezvous after the dinner party. “He’s Best Man now and I’m Maid of Honor. I’m trying to be civil and get along with him for Harry and Ginny’s sake. It might be nice if you stopped pitying yourself all the time and did the same for your best friend and sister.”

“If being civil means making bedroom eyes at him over pasta, then I’ll pass, thanks,” he growled.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” she yelled, throwing her towel back on the chair. She put more force into her throw and the chair clattered over, onto the cement.

“Everything okay out there, or do I need to start throwing up shields?” Harry called, his head sticking out the back door.

Hermione and Ron quickly, guilty looks on their faces. Hermione gave a wave and called back, “Sorry, Harry. We’re done.”

Harry glanced between the two before nodding and backing into the kitchen. Hermione caught Ginny’s voice saying “I told you not to leave them alone,” as the door closed. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” Ron asked, pulling Hermione back to their conversation. “I can accept that, as a couple, we didn’t work. But was it really so bad that you felt you had to move to a whole other country and end a decade of friendship?”

Hermione studied her ex-husband’s face and felt tears stinging her eyes. He genuinely was searching for answers and closure, and she knew despite everything they had put each other through, he deserved that much. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but found that she wasn’t quite ready for that part of the story. 

Ron sighed and shook his head before maneuvering past her and retreating to the house. Hermione let the tears she’d been holding back escape and wrapped her arms around herself, as she slowly looked around the back garden. 

All the guests had gone and the picnic table sat empty, returned back to it’s normal, all traces of dinner wiped away. The flames of the torches lining the pool flickered in the night breeze and caused goosebumps to prickle across Hermione’s arms. She cast a glance towards the glow of the house lights and hastily decided that she didn’t feel like facing the inevitable questions from her friends, so she grabbed her wand and apparated to the first place she could think of. She knocked lightly on the door, then immediately doubted her decision. This was the last place she should have come. She was about to walk away, when the door opened. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed in concern and Hermione waved her hands, saying, “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“That’s okay,” Draco said, grabbing her hand before she could leave. “I know why.”


	7. Chapter 7

After the dinner party, Draco had gone home and took a long, cold shower. There was something to be said for the old cliche. The iciness, washing over his body, refocused his brain and helped him think clearer. Yes, Hermione Granger looked good in her swimsuit. A lot of witches looked good in swimsuits. His libido would have been equally affected had it been any woman unraveling a towel to reveal that sight to him. He possibly reacted a little stronger to Granger because he knew exactly what was under that suit, but that would be the _only_ reason why.

He slipped on a pair of boxers, cleared up the few breakfast dishes left in the sink, and sunk into the couch with a book. He had contemplated going out to the pub around the corner. It was almost guaranteed that there’d be someone there to take his mind off that blue suit, but he figured it was probably best to just call it a night. Maybe he’d hit the pub up on the weekend. He hated how crowded it got, but he at least knew he wouldn’t be leaving on his own.

Draco quickly grew tired of reading. He had just placed the book back on the shelf when someone knocked on his door. He looked through the peephole and his heart skipped a beat. Hermione was on his doorstep. His first instinct was to do nothing, pretend he wasn’t home. But then he noticed that she was still in her swimsuit, and her eyes were red and puffy. If he let her leave and roam the streets of London like that, nothing good would come of it. Nothing good could come of letting her in either, but he’d deal with that aftermath later.

As he opened the door, she mumbled an apology, saying she didn’t know why she was there. Before she could step away, Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “It’s okay. I know why,” Draco said, pulling her inside. That was only a half lie. He didn’t know exactly why she was there, but he recognized the pained look on her face and knew that, for whatever reason, she couldn’t stand the thought of being alone at the moment.

“I just-“

Draco cut her off with a soft kiss, testing his boundaries. He was rewarded with her lips parting and fervently returning the gesture. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and deepening the kiss.

“I just need to forget,” Hermione breathed against his lips.

“I can help with that,” Draco murmured, licking her swollen lips.

A small moan escaped Hermione as she ran her hands up his bare chest and across his shoulders. She dug her nails into his biceps and smashed her mouth against his again. Draco hooked his fingers into the tied up sides of her swim bottom, and guided her to the bedroom. As they crossed the threshold, he swiftly untied the barely there garment, and let it drop at Hermione’s feet. He then grasped her waist, picked her up, and gently tossed her onto the bed.

“Oh!” Hermione cried in surprise, a hint of a smile flashing across her face.

Draco crawled on the bed and straddled her stomach. He unhooked her top and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Lie back,” Draco softly instructed. Hermione obliged without argument, letting her head fall back onto the mattress and her eyes close.

Letting his thumbs stroke gentle circles on either side of her hips, Draco bent low, to Hermione’s neck, and began nipping and sucking his way to her collarbone. He slowly worked up to the other side, whispering in her ear, “What do you need to forget about?”

“Why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to?” was her breathy reply.

Her ex-husband’s face flitted through his mind as he suckled at a sensitive spot below her ear, and he nipped a little harder than he meant to. The unintended gesture had pleasant results. Hermione’s hands grasped his arse and brought his hips crashing down to meet hers. His still clothed erection twitched in anticipation as she thrust against him. Any red haired visions were instantly vanished as her slender fingers slipped between the elastic band and his skin and started working his boxers down his thighs. Draco quickly helped with her quest, working the underwear past his knees and kicking them off. He heard the boxers hit the wall and fall to the floor, causing Hermione to smirk.

Her full lips were irresistible and Draco bent once more to cover them with his own. With one hand back on his arse, and the other on his back, she drew him close; so close he thought he might melt into her. He slipped his arm underneath her and rolled so that they were both on their side. Keeping one hand on the small of her back, Draco let the the other dance up into her soft curls. With tangled fingers, he gently tugged Hermione’s head back, breaking the kiss and exposing her slender neck.

Caressing her neck with his lips, his fingers released her hair and traveled down to tease her breast. A sudden gasp punctuated Hermione’s pants as Draco gave her nipple a gentle squeeze.

Hermione’s fingernails grazed across his arse as her hand came around to the front and gripped his length, giving it a firm, slow stroke. He hummed his pleasure into her neck and she continued to slowly stroke him. Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to hold his composure any longer, her hand stilled and her fingers trickled back to cradle his balls. Draco let out an anguished moan.

He nudged the torturous witch onto her back again and slid his mouth over one of her soft breasts, letting his fingers tease the other. He rapidly flickered his tongue over her aroused bud and purred with satisfaction when he was rewarded with a whimper and a buck of Hermione’s hips. When he moved his ministrations to her other breast, her hands grasped onto locks of his hair and her whimpers evolved into cries of ecstasy.

Draco’s hand left her breast and traveled down to her swollen center. He brushed his thumb over her engorged nub, before plunging a finger between her dripping folds. After several slow and steady pumps, he added a second finger and began to coax her quivering spot. Just as her walls began to quake and tremble, Draco was thrown back onto the bed. Before his ‘what the fuck’ could leave his tongue, he was spread eagle and Hermione was hovering above him. Her face was glowing, beads of sweat dotting her cheeks and forehead.

“Enough teasing,” Hermione rasped. In one divine, fluid movement, she straddled his hips and slid herself over his rigid and ready prick.

Fearing an early release, Draco glided his hands up her thighs and let them rest on her hips. He wanted to be able to savor the feeling of being engulfed in her warmth and velvet softness. She read his signals and covered his hands with hers while settling her body into a slow and steady grind.

Draco felt almost hypnotized, watching Hermione’s body undulate in rhythm with his gyrations. Her eyes were closed and her head lazily swung from side to side. Trickles of sweat left glistening trails along her neck and breasts, pooling at her nipples before splashing against his stomach. Merlin! The witch was an irritating one, but damn could she fuck!

He felt her fire intensify and started to quicken his pace. Her grip on his hands tightened and her pants became heavier.

“I need more,” Hermione begged. “Faster!”

Draco multiplied his thrusts.

“Harder!”

Draco rocked his hips up in harsh collision with hers.

“Dammit, Malfoy! I said harder!”

Draco growled with irritation and plucked the demanding witch from his cock. Ignoring her complaints, he pulled her off the bed and bent her over the edge.

“Careful what you ask for Granger,” he warned, slipping his cock back into her gushing core. Digging his fingers into her hips, he pounded into her from behind. Hermione’s satisfied screams were muffled as she buried her face in the blankets.

Draco continued to slam into her, dropping his fingers to massage her clit and at that point she came undone. She turned her head and let out a strangled cry that startled him and caused him to pause for a split second.

“Don’t fucking stop!” she howled.

Draco pounded hard, fast, and relentlessly until he felt her barriers pulse and then crumble around him. Hermione’s body convulsed as her orgasm consumed her. Draco groaned as he was drowned in her juices, but he didn’t let up. As Hermione rode out her ecstasy, she clenched around his length and he couldn’t hold back any longer. Grasping her shoulders, he pulled Hermione back and held her tight against him as he erupted inside her.

When both of their breathing had slowed, Draco wrapped his arms around her stomach and gently supported her as he slipped from her comforting heat. Hermione slowly stood up, her legs wobbling slightly. Draco pulled her close and nuzzled his face in her hair.

“Is that what you were looking for?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she breathed, leaning her head back against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The following morning, Hermione woke before the sun. Draco was sprawled beside her, on his stomach, and fast asleep with one arm draped over her stomach. With feather-like movements, she lifted his arm and rolled off the bed. Draco let out a grunt, but didn’t wake. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and tiptoed around the room, searching for clothing. She found her swim suit, but didn’t want to take the time fussing with the ties. She found Draco’s discarded boxers from the night before and a rumpled button-up shirt. It would do for apparating back to Harry and Ginny’s.

Hermione padded out to the living room, found her wand, and quietly let herself out into the hallway. She let out another relieved breath and rested against the door, trying to gather her thoughts. It was hard to sort through them though when her mind was still muddled from sex and she was bathed in Draco’s scent. Without thinking, she pulled the shirt collar to her nose and inhaled deeply. Yep, definitely not helping. With a defeated groan, she quickly spun and apparated to Harry and Ginny’s back garden.

As she silently climbed the steps and her bedroom door came into view, Hermione let down her guard. Her friends had plans to go out for the day, finalizing details at the wedding venue, but it seemed like they had yet to get a start to their day. She had just twisted the doorknob, when the bathroom door opened and bathed the hallway in light.

“Hermione?”

Hermione spun around and found Ginny eyeing her skeptically. Heat flooded her cheeks as she searched her brain for a reasonable explanation, without giving away the truth.

“You okay?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, fine. You?” Hermione cringed at the rushed squeakiness of her own voice.

“I was sick and didn’t want to wake Harry up, so I came out to use this bathroom. You have a good night?”

“It was….” Great! Amazing! Unbelievable! “Yeah, it was good,” she finally answered.

“Good,” Ginny said, her mouth curving with a knowing smirk. “We’re going for brunch before we head to the hotel. You want to join us?”

“No, you guys go have a nice day together,” Hermione urged. “I know it’s a rarity for you guys to get anytime alone together. Go enjoy it. I don’t see you guys getting another chance anytime soon.”

“All right, Min. Open invitation if you change your mind.” Ginny gave her a small wave before retreating to her room.

Hermione let herself into her own room and flopped onto the bed. She indulged in another sniff of Draco’s shirt.

What the hell was she doing?! She sat up and quickly shed the shirt, throwing into the laundry basket. She did the same with his boxers and wrapped herself up in her silky blue bathrobe. Rubbing her hands over her face, she sat back on the bed, trying to decide whether she should laugh or cry over her situation.

Why, in a moment when she was seeking comfort, had she turned to Draco Malfoy? Of all the things in the world that made absolutely no sense, that was at the top of the list. Or at least in the top ten. Draco Malfoy was not exactly the person to turn to for warmth and understanding.

The most painful thing of it all was that she knew exactly why she had gone to him, she just didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t really want warmth and understanding. She had wanted to get away. Away from Ron, away from inevitable questions from her friends, away from her past…..away from reality. And fuck, she needed another good night’s sleep! What was it about sharing a bed with that man that relaxed her and kept the night terrors at bay? That answer she didn’t have, but she wasn’t going to feel guilty about using him to get something she needed. She knew he was doing the exact same thing with her. No feelings, just sex.

So then what was this gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her smile involuntarily every time she caught a whiff of his lingering sweat and aftershave. She shot a look of irritation at the shirt sleeve hanging over the side of the basket.

The sun had started its climb and outside her room she could hear Harry and Ginny’s muffled conversation as they got ready for the day. Hermione pushed Draco’s shirt to the bottom of the laundry basket and paced the room until she heard the house fall silent. Then she hurried to the shower so she could reclaim her own scent and sanity.

Wrapped back up in her bathrobe, Hermione let her hair hang in damp ringlets to air dry. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere so there was no use trying to tame her curls. She quirked her lips as she examine her reflection in the mirror. She had been debating whether or not she should put a lengthening charm on it for the wedding. A few added inches would give her more styling options for the big day. She’d just have to get it cut again back in New York. She could already hear her stylist gushing over how lucky she was to have such thick hair that grew so fast. If only Marie knew Hermione’s cheat…

Down in the kitchen, Hermione rummaged through the cabinets trying to decide on breakfast. She couldn’t summon the energy for actual cooking so she opted for oatmeal. As she worked, she started singing a song that had crept into her head earlier.

“Mama mia, here I go again. My my, how can I resist you?” She grabbed blueberries from the icebox and started washing a handful. “Mama mia, does it show again. My my, just how much I missed you.”

“How much have you missed me, Granger?” a drawling voice asked.

Hermione froze for a second, wondering just how long he had been standing there this time. Forcing her face into a passive expression, she turned and answered, “It’s hard to miss something that doesn’t go away.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. “I won’t go away? Who’s the one that showed up on my doorstep last night?”

“Touche, Malfoy. Oatmeal?”

He looked as though he was about throw out another biting remark, but stopped. “What?”

“I’m making oatmeal. Would you like some?” Hermione asked.

“Sure,” he said slowly, a quizzical look in his eyes as he watched her ladle porridge into a bowl.

“Blueberries? Honey?”

“What did you call me?”

Hermione resisted a laugh and answered, “Do you want blueberries or honey for your oatmeal?”

“Yeah, both thanks.” He grudgingly accepted the proffered spoon as she slid a bowl across the island to him. He took a few bites before launching into a rant. “You left me again this morning. Why do you keep doing that?”

Hermione snorted. What was his hang up on her leaving in the morning?

“Why does it bother you so much? I didn’t peg you for a person that craves post-coital cuddles as we watch the sunrise together.”

“I’m not,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“So then what is it? You want to turn this into more than just sex?”

“Definitely not!”

“Then what Malfoy? I thought we were giving each other exactly what the other wanted. Why is my sneaking away in the morning such a big deal?”

“Because I—“ Draco stopped and let his spoon drop into his half eaten breakfast. “It just isn’t what I’m used to.”

Hermione leaned back against the counter as she finished a bite of oatmeal. She took a moment to study his expression and suddenly understood. It was so obvious. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it the first time around. Draco Malfoy, control freak.

“What?” Draco asked, a note of hesitation tingeing his voice.

Hermione smirked and pointed at him with her spoon. “I’m starting to figure you out. You’re trying to keep up this gruff, aloof persona, but really you tend to wear your heart on your sleeve. At least to anyone that takes a moment to pay attention.”

“Just because you’ve spent two nights in my bed, don’t start to assume you know jack shit about me,” Draco growled, pushing his bowl away. Hermione caught it before it could slide off the island. “You can wipe that smug look off your face cause you don’t know a damn thing.”

“I’m betting I know and understand more than what you think, but whatever you have to tell yourself.”

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but then abruptly closed it once more.

“Have I rendered the great Draco Malfoy speechless?”

“Hardly,” Draco sneered. “You’ve known me for barely two weeks. Don’t try and pull some muggle psycho-babble bullshit with me.”

“Oh please! I’ve know you a lot longer than two weeks!”

“Things have changed Granger. You know nothing about me.”

Hermione bit back a retort. He was right, to a degree. She of course didn’t know everything about him, but she knew more than he’d ever admit to. She also knew him well enough to know that no matter what defense she mounted for herself, he’d keep talking the subject around in circles until he had the last word. Much like cooking that morning, she didn’t have the energy for that battle.

She sighed and dropped his bowl into the sink. “Are we done here?”

“I don’t know. Are we?”

“Well, if you want to keep telling me about how much I don’t know, then you’ll have to do it upstairs because I’m going to go get dressed.” Hermione placed her own bowl in the sink and started for the stairs.

“Have I told you lately how infuriating you are?” Draco called.

“No conversation with you is complete without it,” Hermione called back.

Draco growled and stalked off to the fireplace yelling, “You know nothing Granger!”

Just as he was dropping the floo powder, Hermione smiled widely, waved, and said, “See you Tuesday, Malfoy!”

Draco glared at her as he was engulfed by the emerald flames. She knew she was being petty, but fuck it. He wasn’t getting the last word this time.


	8. Chapter 8

 Tuesday came and Hermione stood in front of the closet, assessing her wardrobe choices. She wasn’t sure why she was putting so much thought into this outfit. It’s not like she was trying to impress anybody….was she? No, of course not! What did she care if Draco Malfoy thought she looked nice or not? ‘Go simple,’ she told herself, grabbing a pink peasant top and flowy, white skirt from the closet. 

“Just a group of friends, getting together for some dancing,” Hermione muttered, smoothing out her top and giving herself an appraising look in the mirror. “It’s not at all out of the ordinary that you were married to one of them and are currently sleeping with another.”

Hermione groaned and let her head thud against the mirror. SLEPT with! Past tense! As in it happened and will not happen again! 

Right….who was she fooling? The sex was great and she was sleeping better than she had in years. She could tell herself over and over again that it wouldn’t happen ever again, but Hermione knew that given the opportunity, she’d hop right back into bed with Draco in a heartbeat. 

“Hermione,” Harry’s voice called from downstairs, “I’m heading to the studio.”

“Okay, I won’t be far behind,” Hermione called back. 

She slipped into a pair of white tennis shoes and clipped her hair back. That weekend she had started putting lengthening charms on it so that it would grow a little bit each day. At the moment it almost reached her shoulders, but still wasn’t quite long enough to tie back in a decent ponytail. 

Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a firm nod. “Stay strong, Hermione,” she told herself. “Control your libido!”

At the dance studio, she hung up her purse and made her way over to where Ginny and Harry were standing. As she crossed the large hardwood floor, she scanned the room for a certain blonde head, but the only one that stuck out was Luna. 

“Hey, Min,” Ginny greeted, giving her a hug. “I believe your partner is the only one we’re waiting for. It would appear he’s going for fashionably late, as per usual.”

Hermione frowned slightly and shook her head. “I’m not holding my breath for him. He was pretty clear at dinner the other night that this isn’t his idea of a night of fun.”

“Well, he has no clue what he’s missing,” Ginny declared, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s waist. “If he doesn’t show, I’ll share Harry with you.”

Harry’s face lit up and he grinned. “Will you now? This dance class just got more interesting.”

Hermione started cracking up and Ginny just shook her head. “Darling, you wouldn’t even know what to do with both of us if I ever said yes to that.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could think of a few things.”

“Shut up,” Ginny laughed, pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Min?” Harry said, pulling away and leaning in towards Hermione. 

Hermione put her hand over his face and pushed him away, saying, “Sorry, you’re not my type, Potter.”

“Yeah, I suppose I’m not,” Harry replied, winking, with a smug, knowing look. Hermione was about to question it, but a sharp whistle echoed across the room, bringing the chattering to a halt. 

An almost impossibly thin woman strode to the center of the room, beckoning the group to join her. The dance instructor had raven hair that was pulled into a tight bun; not a stray hair out of place. Her lips were pursed and painted blood red. She gave off an energy that signaled she wasn’t one to be crossed. Hermione felt as though she was getting a glimpse of a young Professor McGonagall and found herself instinctively straightening her posture. 

Her fears we unfounded though. As soon as their large group had assembled in front of her, the instructor’s mouth broke into a wide smile and they were greeted with, “Good evening everyone! My name is Miranda and I will be teaching you all the art of dancing. Even those of you that claim to have two left feet.” She smiled at Charlie, which made the others chuckle.  “Now, we will be starting off--”

Before Miranda could finish her sentence the loud clang of the door opening and closing reverberated through the studio. Everyone looked to the far side of the room and Hermione started cursing her heart for skipping a beat. Draco Malfoy had entered the room.

“Greetings,” Miranda called, as Draco hung up his jacket and sauntered over to stand behind Hermione. “You’re just in time. We were just getting started. Now, tonight we’ll be starting easy and learning the steps to a basic waltz. I like starting with this dance because it’s only a few simple steps to master and it leaves a lot of room to add your own creative moves. Let’s have the bride and groom come up and help demonstrate.”

As Ginny and Harry stepped to the front, Hermione tuned out the rest of Miranda’s speech. She knew this dance by heart and at the moment she couldn’t focus her mind on anything else except the presence behind her. Why was her mind and body betraying her so much? Sure, he had changed a lot since school, but Draco Malfoy was still a smug prick. The trait wasn’t appealing on him as a boy, and much less so now as a man.

Was it because he was good in bed? She certainly enjoyed the sex. Draco never failed to finish the job, making sure she was just as satisfied as he seemed. Hermione wasn’t quite sure what it was about sex with Draco that allowed her mind to clear and actually sleep, but it was a much needed reprieve. Maybe it was orgasms in general that she needed. Maybe it didn’t have to be specifically with Draco. But then again, she’s pleasured herself many times and never reached the same result….

Several claps interrupted Hermione’s ponderings as Miranda instructed them all to pair off and practice the demonstrated steps. Hermione took a deep breath and turned to face Draco, only to find herself staring at his retreating backside as he moved to an empty space. She stood rooted to the spot, momentarily hypnotized. 

“You coming Granger, or are you just gonna stare at my arse all night?” Draco called. Hermione scowled at him, eliciting a smirk from his lips. “Keep scowling like that and you’ll give yourself wrinkles.” Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked over to join him. 

“Okay, starting positions,” Miranda announced, putting a record on the turntable. At once, both Hermione and Draco raised their arms for the lead position.

“Switch,” Draco instructed.

“Why do I have to be the one to switch?”

“Because I’m the guy.”

“Outdated patriarchal--”

“Shut up and humor me,” Draco interrupted. He grabbed her right hand in his left, and then pulled her left up onto his shoulder. “Perfect,” he said, sliding his right hand around to her back.

“I thought you can’t dance,” Hermione grumbled as she fixed her footing.

“Never said can’t. I said I _ don’t  _ dance. Big difference.” The sound of needle against vinyl sounded through the studio and Draco pulled her close. “On three,” and he started his count.

The music started and Hermione tried her best to pay attention to her steps. Back, right, together. Back, left, together. Back, right, together. It was hard to keep her own count though as the smell of Draco’s cologne and the feel of his thigh pushing between her legs fogged her brain.

“Turn,” Draco said suddenly. Hermione had a split second to react as Draco started in on the steps to spin her around. She ended up stumbling and stepping on his feet. “Bugger all, Granger,” he huffed, steadying her and easing back into the rhythm. “I assumed you knew how to do this.”

“I do. It’d be nice to have a bit of a heads up though if you’re going to change up the moves,” Hermione replied. 

“It was either turn or slam you up against the wall.” Draco gave her an evil smile before continuing, “Which I’m not opposed to, I just usually don’t enjoy an audience. Turn.” Hermione was prepared this time and was able to keep her moves in sync with his. “I am enjoying the blush though. Does it go all the way down?” 

He glanced down at her cleavage and Hermione pushed herself closer to him. “For Godric’s sake, Malfoy. Could you show just an ounce of decorum?”

“I think not throwing you up against the wall and hiking your skirt up is a perfect example of my decorum,” Draco whispered in Hermione’s ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Turn.”

Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond to that so she kept her mouth shut and stared off over Draco’s shoulder as he led her around the dance floor. She watched as the other couples practiced. Harry and Ginny had caught on quickly. Bill was spinning Fleur gracefully along their dance path. Ron seemed to be struggling with Luna as his partner. He wasn’t the most competent dancer to begin with, and Luna seemed to be dancing to music that only she could hear. 

“Get ready, Granger.”

“For what?”

“This.” Keeping hold of her right hand, Draco let go of her back and gave her a quick spin, before pulling her back and dipping her low as the last notes of the music faded away. Hermione stared up at him, her eyes wide and breathing heavy. 

“Bravo! Very nice, Draco,” Miranda complimented as Draco pulled Hermione back to her feet. “Your boyfriend is very light on his feet,” she said, giving Hermione a wink.

“N-n-no, not my b-boyfriend,” Hermione called, quickly pulling her hands from Draco’s grasp. 

Miranda either didn’t hear, or didn’t care, because she breezed by Hermione and Draco, calling to the group, “Very good first night. We’ll practice that one first thing on Thursday before we spice things up with the Salsa. Have a good night everyone!”

The chattering of couples filled the air as everyone moved to gather purses and coats. Draco simply smiled at Hermione and walked off to get his jacket. As soon as he was away from Hermione, Ginny rushed over to her side.

“Wow, you and Draco make quite the pair. Who would have thought he could dance like that?”

“You saw that?”

“Oh honey, I think everyone took notice. As close as you two were, I doubt we could’ve fit a quill between your bodies,” Ginny said, arching an almost expectant eyebrow.

“I guess Draco Malfoy is just full of surprises.”

A snort of laughter caused her and Ginny to quickly turn and see Ron walking past. Before Hermione could tell him off, Draco called, “Granger!” Hermione looked over at the coat rack and saw him beckoning her over. She glanced at Ginny, who just grinned, shrugged her shoulders and said, “Better go see what he wants.”

Hermione slowly made her way over to where Draco stood. “What?” she asked, stopping a few feet in front of him.

“Hold out your hand.” Hermione hesitated and Draco let out an agitated sigh. “What the hell do you think I’m going to do to you in a room full of people? Hold out your hand.” She relented and extended her hand to him. He slyly slipped an object into her palm and closed her fingers around it. “Just in case you get the urge to show up at my door again, there’s no need to knock.” 

And with that, Draco turned and left the studio. Hermione watched the door swing shut as she pocketed the key she had just received.

“Everything okay?” Ginny asked, appearing at her side.

“Yeah, fine. He just had to get in one last complaint in about stepping on his toes,” Hermione lied, smiling at her friend. “You guys heading home?”

Back at the cottage, in Godric’s Hollow, Hermione lay on her bed, twirling the key between her fingers. A knock on the door made her quickly shove it back into her pocket.

“Okay if I come in?” Ginny asked, opening the door a crack.

“Sure,” Hermione answered, quickly sitting up.

Ginny entered, a basket of laundry on her hip. She closed the door, set the basket on the floor, and came to sit next to Hermione on the bed. “If I ask you a question, will you be completely honest with me?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been sleeping with Draco?”

“What?! How on earth did you get that idea?!” Hermione cried.

“You’re a really shite lier, Hermione Granger. But if you refuse to come clean, I present you with Exhibit A.” Ginny moved back to the laundry basket and lifted up a clean, pressed, white button-up shirt. “Because I am the greatest best friend ever, I did your laundry. Imagine my surprise to find this in amongst your clothes.”

“What makes you think it’s Draco’s? That could be any man’s shirt,” Hermione said, dismissively. Ginny stepped forward, holding out a sleeve of the shirt. Right under where a cufflink would reside was a green, embroidered ‘M’. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Hermione groaned. “He would be the kind of pompous git that monogrammed his shirts.”

Ginny beamed victoriously as she hung the shirt in the closet. She pulled something from her pocket and tossed it to Hermione. It landed in her lap as Ginny said, “He doesn’t brand those, but I’m just gonna assume they’re are Draco’s also. Hermione sighed in defeat as she lifted the boxers from her lap.

“So,” Ginny continued, sitting back on the bed, “How is he?”

“What?”

“In bed, how is he?” Ginny repeated.

“Would you keep it down?” Hermione hissed. “I don’t want Harry to know.”

“Harry already knows,” a voice called from the hall.

“Are you kidding me?” Hermione yelled, covering her face with her hands. “If you’re using extendable ears on me I’m gonna murder you.”

The door swung open to reveal Harry leaning against the doorframe, the same knowing look on his face from the dance studio.

“Wait, you knew? How?” Ginny asked.

“They both gave the same lame excuse for where they disappeared to the night after dinner at the Burrow. Just seemed a bit too coincidental. And then when she disappeared again, the night her and Ron rowed, I assumed she had gone back again.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Harry just shrugged and said, “I figured she’d tell us when she felt ready.”

“Hello! I’m right here you know,” Hermione said, exasperated. “Could you not talk like I’m on another planet?”

“Sorry,” the couple replied, in unison.

“Look, it’s no big deal. It was just sex,” Hermione explained.

“With Draco Malfoy,” Ginny countered.

“Yes.”

“Two times.”

“Yes.”

“Draco Malfoy never sleeps with the same woman twice. Not since--”

“Gin,” Harry warned.

“What? It’s true,” Ginny replied. 

“That’s Draco’s business. Not something for us to be talking about.”

“It’s not like it was a secret. They--” Ginny started, only to be interrupted again.

“If he wants to share that with Min, he will on his own time.”

Hermione growled and said, “Again, I’m right here! Care to clue me in on what I’m missing here?”

Harry gave her a sympathetic smile and shook his head. “It’s Draco’s history to share, not ours.”

Now Hermione’s curiosity was at a high. If Draco didn’t sleep with the same woman twice, why was she the exception? And what did it mean that he gave her…..Hermione dug the key back out of her pocket and held it up. “He gave me this tonight. What am I supposed to make of it?” she demanded, looking between Ginny’s shocked face to Harry’s passive one.

“I see the gears turning in your head, Ginny,” Harry said, pointing at his fiance. “Don’t turn it into a big deal.”

“But it is a big deal, isn’t it?” Hermione said, jumping up. “You tell me he doesn’t sleep with the same woman twice, yet here I am, two shags in and holding his flat key!”

“Do you want something more with Draco?” Harry asked.

“No!” Hermione replied, almost too quickly.

“Are you enjoying your nights with him?” Hermione felt a blush creeping up her body, but nodded. “Then don’t overanalyze everything,” Harry advised. “You want to sleep with Draco, you have our blessing to go shag him senseless. Or maybe shag some sense into him. Merlin knows he could use some. If you want to leave it at two shags and hash out your sexual tension on the dance floor, go for it. Whatever you decide to do, make sure you enjoy yourself. You deserve to let loose and have some no consequence fun.” He moved from the door and gave Hermione a hug. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I am off to bed. You,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Ginny. “Stop asking about the sex lives of our best friends. It’s weird.”

“Strictly for research purposes, darling,” Ginny reassured, flashing him a smile of innocence.

“Right,” Harry laughed. “Good night.”

Harry shut the door and Ginny turned to Hermione with an eager grin. “So, whatcha gonna do with that key?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione let out an agitated squeak and fell back onto the bed. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I don’t just hop into bed with random guys. Fuck, I don’t just hop into bed with guys I actually know well!”

“Draco isn’t that random,” Ginny quipped.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do you hate him?”

“Yes….no?” Hermione punched her pillow. “I don’t hate him like I did back in school. I’ll concede to the fact that he’s changed and is much more tolerable. But he’s still an arsehole that has control issues.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a minute before continuing, “I guess it bugs me a bit because he’s not the type of guy I go for. But that first night…..my senses were soaked in tequila and he was being unusually sweet and I hadn’t been with anyone since Ron….”

“Whoa, you mean you went over two years with nothing? No one?” Hermione gave her friend a miserable nod. “Then...fuck, yeah, you were due for a good shag.” Ginny stood up, giving Hermione’s knee a gentle pat. “Look, Min. No one is judging you here, except you. You’ve obviously been struggling since the divorce. Like Harry said, if anyone deserves some happiness, it’s you. Just be safe. And don’t go falling in love with a Malfoy,” she added.

“I think I’m safe there. Good night.”

“Night.” Ginny started for the door, then turned back and asked, “Really though, is he good?”

“Ginny!” Harry yelled from their bedroom. 

Hermione smiled and mouthed ‘Yes, very.’ 

“I knew it!” she whispered, before scurrying from the room.

After her friend left, Hermione sat on the bed and stared at the white shirt, hanging in the closet. She could feel Draco’s key in her pocket and suddenly it seemed to weigh a ton. Was he expecting her to come over? He must be, otherwise why would he give it to her? Did she want to go over? No...yes? Urg! This indecisiveness was killing her!

Her best friends knew and didn’t care, so why should she? People used each other for sex all the time. If her and Draco were on the same page, both fulfilling some unspoken need, then there really was no controversy.

Hermione walked over to the closet and let her fingertips trail along the shirt sleeve. The memory of Draco’s thigh between her legs and his threats of taking her up against the wall flooded her mind and momentarily turned her legs to jelly. She really should return the shirt to him...most likely he wouldn’t be home anyway. She can just hang the shirt back in his wardrobe and slip back out, like she was never even there….

Five minutes later she was standing outside his door, biting her bottom lip and contemplating her next move. Instinctively she wanted to knock, but then felt dumb for it because he had given her the key, specifically saying she  _ didn’t  _ have to knock. She still felt awkward just walking right in though. What if he was with someone? Shouldn’t she at least let her presence be known before just waking in? 

‘I’ll knock as I go in. That way he’ll have plenty of notice to tell me to fuck off if he’s already preoccupied,’ Hermione told herself. She took a steadying breath, slid the key into the lock, and gave a quick knock as she walked into the flat.

The lights were on, but it was quiet. Hermione had slowed her breathing, trying to listen for any noise coming from the bedroom, when Draco came in from the kitchen. He was holding a glass of water and had a look on his face that hovered somewhere between annoyed and amused.

“The point of the key, Granger, is so that you don’t have to knock.”

“I know. I just wanted to give you a heads up that I was here, in case you were in the middle of….something.”

Draco smiled and moved towards her. “Just so you know, that wouldn’t stop me. I’d just invite you to join.”

“Right.” Hermione wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so she just held his shirt out to him. “All I wanted to do was return this. Thanks to your need to brand your clothing, Harry and Ginny know we’ve slept together.”

“And this bothers you?” he asked, not making a move to take the shirt from her.

“Well, yeah, doesn’t it bother you?”

“Not particularly. Why does it bother you?”

“Because I’m not one to go about gossiping about my bedroom activities.”

“You’re a first then,” Draco replied nonchalantly. “It seems every other girl I’ve been with can’t keep their traps shut afterwards.”

“And  _ that _ doesn’t bother  _ you _ ?” Hermione asked in disbelief. She’d be mortified if she knew Ron had gone around and shared intimate details about their sex life.

“It’s not like they’re saying anything that’s untrue. I ask again, though, why does it really bother you so much? Because we’re supposed to hate each other?”

“I guess so. You were always the last person I ever expected to end up in bed with.”

“I don’t hate you, Granger,” Draco said simply. “You irritate the fuck out of me, but I don’t hate you. I understand if you still hate me, though. I wasn’t exactly a prince back in our school days.”

“You fucking acted like it,” Hermione muttered, making Draco laugh. She sighed and shook her head, saying, “I don’t hate you. And I don’t regret what we did. Like I said, I’m not one to talk openly about my sex life.” 

She held the shirt out once more and Draco finally took it. For a moment they stood and stared at each other. Rolling his eyes, Draco tossed the shirt onto a nearby chair and said, “Now that that’s out of the way, are you going to take your clothes off or do I have to?”

“What?!” 

“This is the longest you’ve been in my flat and not naked. I know you didn’t come all the way here just to return a shirt. So, I ask again, are you going to take your clothes off or shall I just tear them from you, piece by piece?” Hermione stared at him, gobsmacked and speechless. “Piece by piece it is then,” Draco said, pushing her skirt down and letting it fall to her feet before covering her mouth with his.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco woke to find the sun beaming through his bedroom window. When he rolled over he was unsurprised, yet still irked, to find his bed empty. With a growl, he fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t so much upset with Hermione as he was with himself for caring about her leaving every morning. 

She had been right the other day about him being the one that always does the leaving. He never brought women back to his flat. He had learned that lesson the first time. He had to all but shove the nosey witch out of his flat. After that, Draco always let women do the inviting and he soon was able to suss which ones couldn’t care less where he went the next day, and which ones would be overly clingy come sunrise. For the latter, he’d feign sleep and sneak out as soon as possible.

Why were things different with Hermione Granger? Simple, he told himself. She didn’t have a flat to take him back to. And while he truly didn’t care that Harry and Ginny knew about them sleeping together, he wasn’t too keen to shag her when their best friends were in the next room. 

While he was trying to make up an excuse for why he hated that she snuck out on him, he heard the front door open and then click shut. Draco bolted out of bed, threw on his boxers, grabbed his wand, and dashed out of the bedroom. He almost ran straight into Hermione, who holding a paper bag and coffee carrier.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quickly, lowering his wand.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and muttered, “I can’t fucking win with you, can I?”, before striding off to the kitchen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, following at her heels.

She gave an irritated huff and tossed the bag on the table. “You want me to stick around in the morning, this is what me sticking around looks like- breakfast.” And she pushed a cup of coffee into his hands. “I was going to cook something, but you have fuck all in, so I went to the shop across the street and got bagels. I wasn’t sure how you like your coffee, so there’s cream and sugar in the bag if you need it.”

“Oh,” Draco replied guiltily. He peeked into the bag and pulled out two packs of sugar and a poppy seed bagel. “Thank you. I usually don’t eat breakfast.”

“That’s stupid,” Hermione said, settling into a seat and smearing a glob of cream cheese onto an everything bagel. “Breakfast is the best. Pancakes, waffles, crepes, bacon…”

“Fair enough, but that requires cooking.” He spread a thin layer of cream cheese onto his own bagel and took a bite. “I can’t cook.”

“Can’t or don’t? I hear there’s a big difference.”

“Can’t. As inept as Potter in that skill set. If it’s not toast or cereal, I don’t bother.”

“Then what do you do for food?”

“Mostly pubs or take-out. Ginny invites me over for dinner once a week usually, and sometimes my mother insists on me coming over for a meal.” Hermione looked at him as though he had two heads. “We can’t all be gourmet cooks, Granger. Put me in a potions lab and I’m good, but I have no idea what to do with a chicken.”

“Pretty sure if you can concoct potions you could cook something.” Hermione sipped her coffee and relaxed back into the chair. 

They sat together in silence, each making their way through a second bagel. Draco wasn’t sure what else to say. He wasn’t great at small talk and it almost felt like he was forcing his company on Hermione. As much as he hated to admit it, it was nice that she hadn’t slunk away during the early hours, but now he felt guilty for turning it into such a petty issue. 

With a heavy sigh, Draco broke the silence. “If you want to leave, you can. Sorry I made such a big deal out of it the other times. You don’t have to stick around if you’d rather ditch the scene.”

Hermione didn’t answer right away. She watched him, unblinking, until he grew uncomfortable and looked down at his empty coffee cup.

“Do you always have to have such control over everything?” she finally asked.

Draco let out a morose laugh and said, “That’s a bit hypocritical isn’t it? If I remember correctly, you’ve never been the laid back, go with the flow type.”

“I’ve since been hit with the harsh reality that there are a million things that are beyond my control.” She stood up and tossed her cup into the trash bin. “I liked sticking around today. It was nice to sleep in and not have to try and go all Mission Impossible getting out the door.” Draco gave her a blank look, not understanding her reference. “Nevermind, Muggle thing.”

“Right.” Draco stood and started clearing the rest of the trash. “Big plans for the day?”

“Eh, nothing too exciting. I’m going to go visit my parents and then go over plans for Friday’s hen night. I can’t believe this wedding is just over a week away.” She waved her wand over the table, siphoning up the crumbs. “This trip feels like it’s going by so quickly.”

“Won’t be long and you’ll be back when mini Potter comes along.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back for the baby,” Hermione said, her face falling slightly.

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

“Of course. How can a new baby be bad?” She summoned her purse and started for the door. “I’m going to head out, so I can grab a quick shower. See you tomorrow night.”

“See ya,” Draco called, as the door closed behind her. 

He sat back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. What was his problem? This girl wasn’t any different from the others, so why was he letting her into his life like this? Why was he encouraging her to stick around? Loud knocking interrupted his musings.

“Use your bloody key!” Draco yelled. A second knock sounded and Draco groaned. He pulled himself out of the chair and stalked to the door. “I gave you a key for a reason, you daffy--”

He wrenched the door open and stopped mid sentence when he saw his mother on the other side.

“You have yet to give me a key, darling,” Narcissa Malfoy greeted. She kissed his cheek and then breezed past him, making her way to the kitchen. “Who, pray tell, have you given a key to?” she asked, as she put the kettle on the stove. 

“I’ve never given you a key because you always use the floo,” Draco said, avoiding her question. “You know I don’t have any tea here except that chamomile shit you gave me.”

“Language,” she scolded, pulling mugs from the cupboard and a tin of tea bags from her purse. “I’m quite aware of what your kitchen lacks. I’ve brought my own this time.”

“What are you doing here so early, Mother?” Draco asked, summoning a t-shirt from the bedroom.

“I was in the area, doing some shopping, and thought I would drop in to visit my favorite son. What has you so surly today? Or surlier than usual, I should say.”

Draco rolled his eyes at his mother’s back as she heated the kettle, instantly bringing it to a boil, and pouring out two cups. She placed the tea on the table and conjured up a little carrier of cream and sugar cubes. “It’s been a weird morning. Since when do you make your own tea?” he asked, sitting down in front of a cup and dropping two cubes of sugar into it.

“For heaven’s sake, Draco. I’m almost fifty years old. You don’t think I’m capable of  brewing a simple cup of tea?” Draco started to open his mouth to reply, but Narcissa held up her hand. “Nevermind. I don’t want to hear whatever smart arse retort you have ready.” She added a generous amount of cream to her cup and one sugar cube. “Now, your morning has been weird. How so, dear?”

“Just a minor female problem,” Draco answered, sipping his tea. 

“You gave your key to a girl?” His mother’s eyes lit up. “Who is she? How did you meet? When’s the wedding?” Draco glared and Narcissa immediately apologized. “Sorry, that last one slipped out. I’m just so happy you’re actually dating again, instead of shagging anything that bats her eyes at you.”

“I am not  _ dating  _ anyone. The key symbolizes nothing more than convenience.”

“How many times then?”

“Mother…” Draco sighed and shook his head. “Three. I’ve been with her three times now.”

“And are you planning on seeing her again?”

“Well, yeah, she’s part of the wedding so it’s hard to avoid her.”

“Who is it? Someone you went to school with?” Narcissa pressed.

“If you must know every detail, it’s Hermione Granger. Would you like to know exactly what I do to her also?”

Pretending she didn’t hear the last question, Narcissa asked, with a thoughtful look, “Granger….the name sounds familiar. Have I met her before?”

“Well, Aunt Bellatrix did torture her in the middle of our formal dining room. You may remember her from that?” Draco answered, pushing his cup away.

“Dammit Draco, do you have to be so callous about these things?”

“It’s better than pussy footing around the subject, pretending it never happened!” Draco cried. “Sorry, but I like to speak the truth rather than spare feelings. Like father, like son.”

“Leave your father out of this.”

“I prefer to leave Lucious out of most of my life.” Narcissa pursed her lips and fell silent as Draco stared at her. After a minute’s silence, Draco relaxed back into his chair and said, “So, to answer your question, yes, you have met her before. But no, we’re not dating, just--”

“I get the point, Draco,” she interrupted, quickly standing and taking her mug to the sink. “You know, it isn’t your fault, what happened with--”

“Mother, please. She’s the last person I want to talk about. This has nothing to do with her.”

“But it’s all because of her- the sleeping around, not letting anyone get close You’re sabotaging your own happiness, darling, and it hurts to watch you do so.”

Draco snorted and shook his head. “Why do you care so much? Does it really matter if I spend the rest of my life shagging every witch in Britain? Cause, to be honest, I’m quite happy with that thought.”

“No, you’re not,” Narcissa said softly, smiling warily. “And I care so much because you’re my son. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether you believe it or not. I would love to see you open up your heart again to a woman, or a man for that matter.” Draco rolled his eyes again, but she continued, “Anyone that could help you find that happiness.” His mother kissed the top of his head and patted his cheek. “You should come for dinner next week.”

“We’ll see,” Draco muttered, not meeting his mother’s eyes.

“I’ll send an owl.” With that, Narcissa Malfoy made her way to the door and was gone.

“She’s wrong,” Draco told himself bitterly, as he stalked to the bathroom. “That future sounds fucking fantastic.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

At lunchtime, Hermione apparated to the back garden of her childhood home. Very little had changed since she was a kid. A clothesline ran the length of the yard, along the neighboring fence. Growing up, the line was often filled with an assortment of Hermione’s dressup clothes- doctor, princess, astronaut, and various animals. Today white linens flapped lazily in the breeze, wafting their clean scent across the yard.

The thick, old oak tree, that occupied the most space, still hosted her old swing. She loved getting herself up to the highest point and jumping off, pretending that for a few precious seconds she could fly, never imagining that in just a few short years she’d actually be able to. Her obsession with jumping off the swing came to an abrupt end when she was eight, though. She had a particularly nasty landing, resulting in a broken ankle and a summer spent on crutches, with an itchy cast. 

On the east side of the house there was a small addition that had been added shortly after Hermione was born. Her parents had it built so that they could open up their own dentistry office, while staying close to home. After having their memories restored, they returned from Australia and reopened the practice as if no time had passed.

Hermione let herself in the back door and found her mom at the counter, arranging a plate of sandwiches.

“Hi, mum,” she greeted, kissing her mother on the cheek and stealing a pickle from the condiment tray. 

“Hello, darling. How’s your day been so far?” Katherine Granger asked. She set the plate on the table and went to the sink to wash up.

“It’s been….weird,” Hermione sighed, falling into her usual seat at the round kitchen table. It was her favorite seat because it overlooked the back garden and she had a perfect view of her mother’s bird feeder. “Where’s dad?”

“Finishing up a root canal. He should be finishing up for lunch soon.” Her mother set the tray of condiments on the table and motioned for her daughter to help herself. “What’s been weird about your morning?” she asked, taking the seat across from Hermione. “Everything okay with Harry and Ginny?”

“Oh yeah, they’re fine. Counting down the minutes until the big day.” Hermione grabbed a turkey sandwich and started piling on lettuce, pickles, and tomatoes. “I’m just struggling a bit with being back home.”

“Ron?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Hermione answered, “Part of it’s Ron. It’s hard for us to be in the same room together and not have it filled with unspoken tension.”

“That’s understandable. You two didn’t part on the greatest of terms.”

Hermione pursed her lips, remembering the last night she had seen Ron, before leaving for New York. It had been a surreal evening; they fought, they fucked, they fought some more, and ended with Hermione storming out of the flat with the last of her possessions. 

“So, then what’s the other part of your dilemma?” Katherine asked, setting a glass of lemonade in front of Hermione. 

“It’s another guy that I’ve sort of started hooking up with since I got here.”

“Hooking up? As in having sex with?” her mother pressed. The bluntness made Hermione choked on her drink and all she could do was nod. “Then there’s no ‘sort of’ about it, dear. You’re either doing it or you’re not.” She passed a napkin across the table to Hermione.

“Fair point,” Hermione rasped, mopping lemonade from her chin. 

“You like this boy?”

Hermione refrained from giggling at how primary schoolish that question sounded. Instead, she answered, “That’s part of the problem. I don’t quite know if I really like him. I mean, I  _ really _ like what we do together.”

“Oh, honey, that’s a given,” her mother laughed. “How many parts to this problem are there exactly?”

Hermione took a deep breath and launched into her and Draco’s mutual past dislike and their various encounters since her arrival back in England. She had always had a great relationship with her mother, but openly talking about her sex life was unexplored territory. Her mother knew she had one, and that was where her knowledge began and ended. But sitting there, in the middle of the kitchen, sharing things she never expected to, it felt almost liberating and helpful in clearing out some of the haziness of the situation. When she had finished, she sat and quietly waited for her mother’s response.

“Is this man hurting you?” Katherine asked.

“No!” At least not in a bad way, Hermione thought.

“Is he pressuring you to do something you don’t want to?”

“Mum! No, it’s not like that.”

“I’m just trying to actually figure out what the problem is, Hermione. It’s perfectly natural for people to change as they grow out of their teenage years and it seems as though this Draco has been working to make amends for his past. It doesn’t sound like he is looking for anything serious, just like you. Your friends have no problem with it.” Katherine paused and studied Hermione’s face. “Do your feelings of guilt have anything to do with, perchance, how Ron will react if he finds out?”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but found she couldn’t, and instead chewed on her bottom lip. Damn that motherly intuition!

“Ahh, I see. You still care for him.”

“Yes, but not in that way!” Hermione defended.

“I never said you were still in love with him, darling. But, you two were friends before anything else. It’s natural that you would still care about hurting him.”

“Ron and Draco still don’t get along with each other,” Hermione sighed, picking at the crust of her sandwich. “There’s still a few unresolved things between Ron and I, and while I know I shouldn’t, part of me feels bad sleeping with a guy I know he hates.”

“Are you sleeping with Draco to get back at Ron for something?”

“If I’m being honest, it was part of the motivation the first time. Mainly, though, it’s been a way to escape and let my mind focus on something else.”

Her mother’s face changed from curious to worried, and Hermione braced herself for the next question that she immediately knew she wouldn’t truthfully answer.

“What are you trying to escape from?”

“A lot of stressful work stuff,” Hermione lied. “I applied for a new position and have been nervous waiting for the reply.”

Katherine gave her a scrutinizing look, but didn’t press the subject any further. She placed her hand over Hermione’s and gave it a squeeze. “Do you want my analysis and advice?”

“Even if I say no, you’ll give it to me anyway,” Hermione joked, giving her mum a weak smile.

“One day you’ll have your own kids and know that the need to parent never goes away, whether they’re one or twenty-three.” She reached up and smoothed Hermione’s hair. “All I want to tell you is go and enjoy yourself, sweetheart! You always get so hung up on what you should be doing or how something is going to look to people on the outside. Fuck what other people think.”

“Mum!”

Katherine waved off Hermione’s shock and continued, “You have one life, Hermione Jean. Experience all that it has to offer you. What other people think of you doesn’t matter, even if you happen to have been married to one of them. Do what makes you happy! It’s okay to go after what you want, instead of what’s expected of you.”

“You sound like Harry and Ginny,” Hermione laughed.

“If three people are giving you the same advice, I’d say it’s pretty sound.”

“You’re my mother though. Aren’t you supposed to be telling me to only sleep with someone I love?”

Katherine threw her head back and laughed, causing Hermione’s eyebrows to ascend into her hair. She hadn’t meant for her statement to be funny.

“Oh, sweetheart! Do you think I’ve loved every man I went to bed with?”

“Yes, because you have only slept with dad and you guys will love each other until the end of time,” Hermione asserted.

Another laugh and her mother shook her head. “If that’s what makes you sleep better at night, then go ahead and tell yourself that.”

“There seems to be only one thing that helps me sleep better at the moment, and it isn’t thoughts about my parents’ sex life,” Hermione grumbled. She took a bite of her sandwich and sunk down in her chair, feeling as though she had opened up a Pandora’s box. “Thank you for the affirming talk though, Mum. I know everything you...and Ginny...and Harry….are saying is right. It’s just one of those things that’s easier said than done for me.”

“Can I give you one last nudge in the right direction?” Katherine asked, laying her hand on Hermione’s arm.

“Of course.”

“Talk to Ron, before you go back to New York. You deserve to put whatever is in your past to rest.”

With a defeated smile, Hermione nodded. Before she could say anything else, the door to her parents’ dental office swung open and her dad entered, throwing his white coat onto the adjacent hook.

“Ahh, there are my two favorites girls!” Michael Granger called, walking over and planting a kiss on the top of Hermione’s head. “What have we been chatting about?”

“Women stuff,” Katherine answered, airily. “How was Mrs. Roberts’ root canal?”

As her parents started talking about dental intricacies, Hermione let herself zone out and ponder the last minutes of conversation. It was of course inevitable. She did have to talk to Ron, and it’d be preferable to do so before she returned to the States. 

As for Draco, she was going to do her best to take her mum and friends’ advice and kick her guilt to the curb. She was an adult woman. She had needs, just like everyone else dammit! Why shouldn’t she allow casual, meaningless sex to be at the top of her list, if only for a few weeks? Lizzie’s voice sounded in the back of her mind, cheering her on. 

“What’s that goofy grin about?” Michael asked, breaking into Hermione’s thoughts.

“Nothing,” Hermione laughed. “So, what’s for dessert?”


	10. Chapter 10

"Nope. Nuh uh, not a chance, Granger. Go change."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Don't call me Granger. You sound like Draco."

"Then don't dress like you're heading for a funeral instead of a bachelorette party," Ginny protested.

"There's nothing wrong with this dress," Hermione replied, inspecting her dress. It was white and floor length, with big pink orchids scattered around.

"Pretty sure my Aunt Muriel has the exact same one in her closet."

"What do you think, Harry?" Hermione called to her friend, who was reclined on the couch with his nose in a book.

"I think I should go read under the invisibility cloak and stay far away from this conversation," Harry answered, sinking lower into the couch.

"I am under strict instructions to not let you out of this house tonight unless you're wearing the slinky, black strapless number you're hiding in your suitcase," Ginny said, and pointed to the stairs. "So, get your arse back up there and change."

"Strict instructions from whom?"

"Lizzie," Ginny answered, holding up a piece of parchment. "She also said to tell you that you got the position with the Licensing Enforcement Department."

"Really? You should have led with that information!" Hermione cried, snatching the parchment from Ginny. Her eyes scanned the letter and a smile spread across her face. "Oh, that's such a relief!"

"What's this new position mean, Min?" Harry asked, laying his book aside.

"It means I won't be stuck behind a desk all the time now. I'll go out and track down people that haven't registered their wands with MACUSA. It sounds a little lame, but I'll actually get to work with a team and be out and about in the city. Plus, I'll get a nice raise and be able to get out of that closet I've been stuck living in. It's not something I see myself doing forever, but definitely a step up."

"That's great. Congratulations!" Harry walked over and hugged her. When he stepped back his brow furrowed and he shook his head. "I've changed my mind though. Gin's right, you can't wear that dress tonight. It's like you're your own cockblock."

"For Godric's sake," Hermione groaned, as Ginny gave a triumphant laugh.

"Oh, come on Min! Go change into the slinky dress! For me, please!" Ginny whined and pouted her lips.

"Fine," Hermione conceded, and went back up the stairs. Five minutes later she returned wearing the strapless, black dress that Lizzie had picked out for her, weeks earlier, and a pair of black pumps. "Better?"

"Hell yeah!" Ginny waved her wand and black rectangle came flying out of the hall closet. "This will go perfectly with it," she insisted, pushing a black clutch purse into Hermione's hands.

"Thanks." Hermione transferred a few essentials into the clutch and tucked her wand into the side pocket she had fashioned on the inside of her dress. "Now, are you ready for your last big night out as an unmarried woman?"

"Yes! Love you, don't wait up!" Ginny said, kissing Harry and scurrying for the back door.

"Keep her in line," Harry murmured to Hermione.

"Heard that!"

"I'll try my best," Hermione promised, with a laugh. She waved to Harry and then followed Ginny to the back garden. The two girls linked arms and disapparated with a loud crack. A few quick seconds of twisting and turning and they landed in an alley, one block north of the restaurant. "Ready?" Hermione asked, attempting to tug the hemline of her dress closer to her knees.

Ginny watched with raised eyebrows. "Pull it down much further and the people passing by will see much more than they expected this evening."

"Good point." Hermione grimaced as she hiked the top back up a few inches.

"Once we get a few drinks in you, you won't care much. Let's go eat some ridiculously overpriced French food." Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her to the high street. Once they got the WALK signal, they scurried across the road and up to the restaurant, where the rest of the bridal party was waiting.

The girls kept dinner a low key affair. Fleur helped them navigate the foreign menu items and they all limited themselves to two glasses of wine. That is, all except Hermione. She ended up with double as she snuck sips of Ginny's in order for her friend to keep up appearances. Being a Muggle restaurant, it would have been risky to just vanish it with magic, so Hermione kept swapping hers and Ginny's glasses throughout the meal. When it was time to walk to the theater, Hermione was regretting her shoe choice. Walking in heels wasn't the easiest thing on a normal day. The effort she had to exert, while seeing double, was almost excruciating.

"You all right?" Ginny whispered, lending Hermione a supportive arm.

"Peachy keen," Hermione sighed. She snuck a hunk of bread, from one of the three rolls she had shoved in her clutch, and shoved it in her mouth. "Hopefully some bread and the show will sober me up in time for the club."

At the theater, Angelina and Qwenog made a beeline for the bar. "Drinks before the show starts!" Qwenog declared.

Hermione groaned as she hoisted herself onto a barstool. Ginny gently rubbed her back and took the seat beside her. When the bartender found out the group were there for a hen night, he insisted that the first round was on the house.

"First round?" Hermione said meekly, shooting a pleading look at Ginny.

" _Only_  round," Ginny quietly reassured.

Hermione waited for Ginny to place her order, then ordered the same for herself. When the gin and tonics arrived, Ginny would pretend to sip from hers, before discreetly trading glasses with Hermione.

"Another one, ladies?" the bartender asked after Hermione pushed the two empty glasses away.

"No thanks, just directions to the loo," Hermione answered. The bartender smiled and pointed her towards a set of gold doors on the left. She swayed slightly when she got to her feet, but carefully made her way to the doors. The black letters printed above them swam in front of her face. Attempting to keep a controlled composure, she made an executive decision and headed for the door on the left.

"Hold on Hermione, I need to go too," a musical voice called. A gentle, but insistent tug on her right arm led her away from her chosen door and through the one to the right. Slightly startled, Hermione looked over to see Luna's big, bright eyes gleaming at her. "Sorry if I frightened you, but I thought it might be better than walking into the men's room."

"Oh, yeah, thanks Luna," Hermione said, bracing herself against the wall in hopes that the black and white tiled floor would stop spinning.

"I can help you, if you'd like," Luna offered.

Hermione arched her eyebrows and slowly shook her head. "I think I can manage the next part on my own, thanks."

"Oh! No, not with the toilet. I mean with Ginny and the new baby."

That statement brought sobriety to Hermione's brain.

"Wait, how do you know about the baby? She hasn't told anybody about it yet!"

"She didn't tell me. She doesn't have to. You can tell just by how different her aura is radiating lately," Luna stated simply. "Plus, every now and then, when she thinks no one else is looking, she rubs her hand across her stomach."

Hermione should have known that if anyone would pay attention to every minute detail, it'd be Luna Lovegood. Not much escaped her radar.

"But I can intercept a few of her drinks tonight, if you'd like. They seem to be taking a toll on you already," Luna continued.

"That would be wonderful," Hermione breathed. She was so relieved she threw her arms around the blonde witch and hugged her tight. "I was beginning to worry if I'd make it out of the club alive! It's not a problem if I'm getting her drinks. I can just sneak something non-alcoholic into her cup. But with the others giving her drinks and shots, it gets a bit trickier."

"No problem. We can tag-team her drinks tonight on the instances when we can't control what goes into her cup."

"Thanks! Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do need to use the loo!" Hermione grimaced and dashed into a toilet stall.

Once she had relieved herself of all the wine, she exited back to the bar with Luna. Ginny glanced up at her and bit her lip guiltily, holding up a two full gin and tonics.

"Thanks Gin!" Luna piped up, taking one of the glasses like it was always meant for her.

Ginny shot a look of confusion at Hermione, but didn't contest Luna commandeering the drink.

"I'll explain later," Hermione whispered, taking her seat. "But for the moment, I have a backup."

Ginny nodded and didn't question it any further. As she took a faux-sip of her cocktail, the lights flashed, signaling the imminent start of the show. Luna downed her gin and tonic in one gulp. While the others had their backs turned, she traded glasses with Ginny and gulped down the second drink. Hermione stared in wonder, thinking their night in the club would be anything but boring. True colors were going to shine through.

Once they were settled into their comfy seats, Hermione was able to relax and let the tipsiness wear off while the actors put on an immersive show. Thankfully, during the intermission, Ginny insisted that she was fine without a drink and wanted to wait until they got to the club before she drank anything else. The second half seemed to fly by as Hermione got wrapped up in the story, and she was slightly confused when the lights came up and the cast walked out onto the stage to take their final bows.

"Wonderful show," Fleur said, clapping and standing up. "I never realized Muggles could put on such an inspiring performance."

Hermione's lips twitched in annoyance and she was about educate Fleur on the myriad of capabilities of Muggles, but a tug on her arm cut her off. Turning around, she was met with a grinning Ginny.

"For Fleur, that's a pretty good compliment," Ginny whispered as the group shuffled from their seats and made their way to the lobby. ""Harry's given her the same speech you were about to and in the end she just smiles and says 'Okay'. It's just easier to let her live in her Fleur World," she concluded with a shake of her head.

The group wound their way through the busy sidewalks, back to the alleyway that Ginny and Hermione had originally apparated to. One by one, they disapparated to a spot just around the corner from the dance club Hermione had found. From the outside, they could already hear and feel the pulsing music.

"This place looks pretty posh and picky," Angelina said, eyeing up the line of people that reached all the way down the block.

"Yeah, I'm not sure if we're gonna get in here, Min," Ginny fretted. She looked at her watch and added, "I'm sure if we go now, we can find somewhere else and still have time to dance and drink before closing."

"Just trust me," Hermione whispered. "And act like you belong." She gave the others a reassuring nod, adjusted her dress for maximum cleavage, and sauntered toward the doorman. She hated using blatant sexuality to get her way, but her plan was already shaky and she wanted to make sure she had every advantage working for her.

The bouncer was pretty much the stereotypical club guardian- tall, broad, and muscles rippling upon muscles. He stood next to the closed, roped off door, and was holding a clipboard as he kept an eagle-eye on the crowd gathered before him. Hermione plastered on her biggest smile and walked right up to him.

"Hi there, handsome-"

"Name," the bouncer barked, before Hermione could say anything more.

Hermione's smile faltered for a nanosecond, but she pushed on and answered, "Hermione Granger."

"You'll have to get in line with the rest of them, darling." He gestured to the end of the line.

"Oh, no, I'm on the list."

"No, you're not," the bouncer refuted, not even looking at her.

"But, you didn't even look," Hermione persisted. She pointed to the clipboard and felt her fingertips tingle. 'Merlin, let this work,' she silently pleaded.

"Sweetheart, it's not everyday you meet a girl named Hermione. I have this list memorized and if your name was on it, believe me, I'd remember."

"If you could just have a quick little look, I'm sure my name is on there. Pretty please?" Hermione insisted in an over-the-top, sugary voice.

"It's okay, Min. We can go somewhere else," Ginny whispered in her ear.

Hermione ignored her and kept her eyes and smile directed at the doorman. He let out an irritated sigh, shook his head, and held up the clipboard. "I'm telling you ladies, there is no Hermione Gr-" He went suddenly silent and looked up at Hermione, then back at the list. "Hermione Granger, party of seven?"

Hermione smiled wide in relief. "That's us!"

"Not sure how I let such a unique and beautiful name slip my mind," he replied, winking as he unhooked the rope across the door. "You lovely ladies have a fun evening and don't hesitate to find me if you need help getting home."

"Aww, you're sweet. Thank you," she said, giving his arm a squeeze. As she and the rest of the group filed through the door, the disgruntled complaints of the other waiting clubgoers followed them. They heard the bouncer call out, "Calm down, they were on the list!" as the door closed and the angry shouts were replaced with thumping dance music.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Ginny shouted, her eyes wide in awe. "What just happened?"

"I made sure we were on the list," Hermione answered with a shrug. "Drinks?"

The other girls agreed in earnest, Alicia leading the way to the bar. With a new surge of confidence, it didn't take long for Hermione to relax and enjoy a few drinks and let loose a bit on the dance floor. When it was her or Luna's turn to buy a round, they would make sure Ginny's was just sparkling mineral water, dressed up as some fruity cocktail. For all the other times, it was like a sneaky game of pass the parcel.

Happily buzzed, Hermione had made her way from the dance floor to the bar, and was waiting for a fresh round of drinks. Tapping her fingers to the beat, she couldn't help but overhear the conversation taking place beside her.

"Come on, beautiful! Just one dance!" an insistent male voice was saying.

"Get lost. I've already told you no," the woman next to her answered.

Hermione glanced over and saw a woman in tight black jeans and a red halter top inching back towards her. The man seemed to take the hint as he threw his hands up in defeat and said, "You're loss, baby." But as he walked past, he reached out and grabbed the woman's backside, adding, "Sorry, couldn't resist."

The woman gasped and before Hermione could give her own actions a second thought, she reached out and grabbed the sleazy man's crotch. He let out a scared little yelp and froze as Hermione squeezed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This underwhelming package was just too hard to resist," Hermione sweetly cooed.

"Let go you mental bint!" he hissed.

"Then I suggest you take the lady's suggestion and get lost," Hermione warned, digging her nails through his denim pants. "Next time, you'll be leaving the club missing bits."

By that time, the man could only nod his head as his eyes bulged. Hermione released her grip and he made to dart the opposite direction. Unfortunately he ran straight into the bouncer, who was twice the man's size.

"Just once I'd like to have a night when I don't have to add anyone to the Lifetime Ban List," he sighed, grabbing the guy by the back of his shirt collar. "Miss Granger," he acknowledged as he spun the grabber around and escorted him to the exit.

"Did you just grab some stranger's knob?" Ginny demanded.

Hermione jumped at her friend's sudden appearance. "No, I grabbed some arsehole's prick to show him what it feels like to be objectified." She started handing Ginny drinks as the bartender set them on the counter. "That one is yours," Hermione said, pointing out a fizzy pink drink, topped with an umbrella. She turned back to pay, but the bartender waved her off.

"On the house. That bloke's been treading on thin ice all night. It's nice to see someone put him in his place."

"Oh, thank you. Happy to make sure all the other women have a grope free evening." Hermione picked up the last few drinks and started to follow Ginny. A gentle tap on her shoulder stopped her and she turned around. The woman in the red halter top was there, smiling at her.

"Gemma," she said, introducing herself with a little wave. As her hand fell, she let it lightly brush down Hermione's arm. "I just wanted to say thanks for helping me out with that scumbag."

Hermione introduced herself and replied, "You're welcome. I hate how some men think they can get away with crude behaviour just because they have a penis."

"He couldn't take the hint that he just wasn't my type," Gemma explained. She took a step back and let her gaze rake over Hermione. "You, on the other hand…" When Hermione's eyes grew wide, Gemma let out a tinkling laugh. She leaned forward and Hermione gave a little shiver of excitement at the feel of Gemma's warm breath on her ear. "If you should ever fancy a drink, someplace a bit more quieter," she whispered. Her lips delicately trailed across Hermione's cheek, as she felt Gemma tuck a piece of paper into the top of her dress. "Have a good night, Hermione." And with that, she turned and went to join her friends on the other side of the club.

By the time Hermione reached her own group of friends, she had normalized her breathing and relearned how to blink. Ginny just stood and grinned at her. "First time a woman tried to pick you up?" she asked.

"Yeah, bit surreal, but nice," Hermione laughed, handing Angelina a drink and passing another to Fleur.

By the time last call was announced, each of the girls were stumbling about, slurring their words, making wild proclamations about how much they loved each other, and laughing like crazy. Ginny was playing her part well, swaying and stumbling with the rest.

"Evening ladies," Neville called as the group staggered through the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron. "I see the hen night was a successful one."

"Indeed!" Qwenog cried, falling into one of the cushy chairs by the fireplace. Neville just shook his head and continued wiping down the bar.

"Thank you all for such an amazing night," Ginny said, making her way through the group and hugging everyone. "It really was the best!"

One by one, the girls climbed into the fireplace, shouting out various destinations, until it was just Hermione and Ginny left in the bar, with Neville. Ginny sighed and said, "Ahh, I can finally be sober again."

"I'm going to need a little bit more time for that," Hermione said slowly, holding onto the back of a chair. "Thanks for letting us use the floo, Nev!"  
"Anytime. Safe travels," Neville replied, waving to the girls.

Ginny stepped behind the grate and called out, "Potter Cottage." A flash of emerald green and she was gone.

Hermione slowly followed in her footsteps, though considerably less gracefully. She knocked the grate over and it crashed down, a loud clang echoing through the empty bar. "Shit," Hermione muttered, reaching down and wrestling with the hunk of iron, trying to stand it back upright.

Neville chuckled and said, "Don't worry about it. I'll set it straight."

Hermione nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. She stood up, grabbed some Floo powder, and without second thought, called out "The Burrow!"

She immediately knew she had screwed up and couldn't help but laugh as she was spun through the network of fireplaces. When her feet landed on solid ground, she was joking on ashes and soot and fell out of the hearth, onto her hands and knees. Hermione half wheezed, half laughed as she looked up into the startled faces of Ron and Arthur.

"Honey, I'm home," Hermione hiccuped.

"What's going on? Who's calling this late at night?" Molly Weasley came bustling into the sitting room, drying her hands on a tea towel. "Hermione?"

"I think someone got lost coming back from the hen night," Arthur laughed. He helped Hermione back to her feet and led her over to his arm chair.

"Oh dear, look at your poor knees," Molly fussed. Hermione glanced down and saw blood trickling down her legs, stemming from two scrapes on her knees. "Give me a moment and I'll clean them up."

Molly hurried back to the kitchen and Hermione glanced up at her ex-husband and former father-in-law. She gave them a sheepish grin and explained, "I sort of forgot that Ginny doesn't live here anymore."

"It's all right, love. We'll get you there," Arthur reassured.

Molly reappeared with a bottle of Dittany. She waved her wand over Hermione's legs, siphoning off the blood, and dribbled a few drops of the potion over each knee. The scrapes faded within a few seconds and Hermione unsteadily rose back to standing.

"Thank you, and sorry for the late intrusion," Hermione apologized. She went to make her way to the fireplace, but tripped once more. This time strong arms caught her before she hit the floor.

"Let help you," Ron sighed, guiding her back to the fireplace.

"I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own, Ronald."

"Obviously," Ron muttered, not letting go of her arms as she stepped over the grate. He stepped in after and wrapped one arm around her waist, while taking a pinch of Floo powder in the other.

"What are you doing?!"

Ron didn't answer. He dropped the powder and calmly said, "Potter Cottage." Hermione struggled against his hold, as they twisted and turned through the Floo Network, but Ron didn't let go until they had reached Harry and Ginny's.

"I'm not yours to manhandle like that anymore, Ronald!" Hermione cried, pushing him away and wiping ashes from her dress.

"Would you stop calling me Ronald? And a simple 'thanks' would do, but whatever."

"Thanks? For what? I didn't need your help!"

"Merlin, I didn't think it possible, but you're even bitchier when you're drunk! Most girls loosen up after a few drinks, 'Mione."

Hermione's screech rattled picture frames. "You take that back! I am NOT a bitch!"

"I didn't say you were  _a_  bitch. I said you're bitchy. There's a difference."

Hermione let out another irritated scream and stalked past a confused Harry and Ginny to the steps. She stumbled and tripped over the first one.

"Need some help?" Ron called after her.

"Fuck off, Ronald!" Hermione yelled, as she stomped the rest of the way to her bedroom. She slammed the door, kicked off her heels, and started pacing the room in irate agitation. "Fuck it," she murmured and dug the silver key out from the bedside table drawer. Following her evening trend of no second thoughts, Hermione spun on the spot. After a moment of pulling and twisting, she was standing in front of Draco's flat, trying to force the key into the lock. "Dammit," she grumbled, leaning against the door. She turned the key over and tried again. Just as it slid into the lock, the door opened and Hermione fell through the doorway, her fall broken by Draco's chest.

"Granger," he greeted. It made a nice change that Draco didn't move to help her stand or guide her to a safe, sitting place. He let her stand on her own time and volition, stepping away to close the door once she had gained her balance. "I was wondering when I would see you tonight. You don't disappoint," he acknowledged, his gaze sweeping up and down her body. "Though, you're an idiot for apparating when you're this drunk."

"Shut up Malfoy. I just got called a bitch by my ex-arse. I don't need a lecture from you." Hermione threw her purse on the floor, grabbed Draco by the neck and pulled him towards her until her lips crashed into his.

She seemed to have taken him by surprise with her forwardness, but he recovered quickly, pushing her back against the wall as their tongues battled for dominance. Hermione suckled on his bottom lip before giving it a nip. Draco growled and said, "Mmm, I do enjoy reaping the rewards of Weasel's stupidity."

Reaching around her back, Draco undid the zip on her dress and stood back as it fell around her feet. A small bit of paper fluttered down after it. Draco snatched it up before it met the floor and unfolded it. "Gemma? Who's Gemma, and what do these numbers mean?"

Hermione squinted at the bit of paper and felt a blush creep up her body. "I met her at the club earlier. Some jerk wouldn't leave her alone and grabbed her bum, so I grabbed his dick." Draco cocked an eyebrow in intrique. "Those numbers would be her telephone number. Apparently the guy wasn't her type, but I was."

Draco's steely eyes flashed silver. "That's fucking hot," he said, stepping forward to trap her between his body and the wall again. He started assaulting her neck with licks and bites.

"Typical male reaction," Hermione sighed, though she wasn't the least bit irritated by the comment. Playing into it, she added, "Her lips were soft and silky though."

Draco halted his ministrations and moved his head so that they were nose to nose. "I'm going to have so much fun with you tonight," he promised, before catching her lips for another hungry kiss. Hermione reached around, grabbing his arse and pulling him closer. As his nimble fingers worked the clasp free on her strapless bra, her fingers roamed south and undid his belt. Draco tossed her bra over his shoulder just as she pushed his trousers down and immediately grabbed for his briefs.

Draco grabbed her wrists and slowly guided her arms up, over her head. "Someone's an impatient witch. Let's play a little game."

"I'm not in the mood for games right now," Hermione said, pushing her hips against his.

"Then think of it as more of a test. You like tests, don't you Granger?"

"Will it be multiple choice or essay?" she asked dryly.

Draco smirked and answered, "A physical challenge. I'm going to start at the top and work my way down this gorgeous body." He trailed his index finger from her ear, across her jawline, down her neck, between her breasts, to her belly button. Hermione leaned heavily against the wall, nearly melting into a puddle with that single action. "You're not allowed to touch me or yourself. If you do, I'll have to stop and start all over again."

"And if I succeed in your test?" Hermione said breathlessly, running her hands over Draco's still clothed chest.

"You'll be rewarded, don't worry." He undid the top two buttons of his shirt, then pulled it off, tossing it aside. "Shall we begin?" Hermione nodded and Draco pulled her arms up over her head once more.

Placing his hands on either side of her head, against the wall, Draco bent down and gently clasped her ear between his teeth. He alternated between soft suckles and feathery flickers on the sensitive lobe. Hermione moaned and let her head fall to the side, exposing her slender neck. Draco moved his attention to the soft flesh just below her ear. As his mouth slowly worked down to the nape of her neck, his hands slowly grazed over her body. His touch was barely there, but as the pads of his fingers brushed against her nipples, heat rippled through Hermione's body. Draco's hands came to rest on her hips and continued to hold her against the wall.

"I thought you said no touching," Hermione gasped.

"I said  _you_  can't touch.  _I_  get to touch anything I want." Proving his point, Draco swept his fingers over her moist panties. Involuntarily, Hermione's hips pressed forward, desperately wanting more. "Don't worry, I'll get there...eventually."

Draco resumed showering her neck with torturous licks. Hermione held her composure until he his mouth reached her breasts. His tongue barely ghosted over her stiff nipple and she dug her fingers into his hair, arching into him. Draco immediately stopped and stood up straight.

"Tsk, tsk," Draco scolded. "I expected better of you, Granger."

"Please, just fuck me," Hermione moaned.

"While I do enjoy the begging," he said, running his tongue over her upper lip, "no. Now, try again."

Once again, Draco started at her ear and subjected Hermione to langid, tortured licks and strokes. Anguished whimpers peppered her heavy pants as Draco cupped her breasts and lavished each aroused peak with his skilled tongue. Just as her will was about to break, Draco abandoned her chest and continued south.

As he knelt down in front of the drenched black satin of her panties, his hands gripped her calves and kneaded their way up until he was gripping her backside. With a gentle nudge, he brought her hips forward and ran his tongue over the soaked garment. Hermione broke. She grabbed his head and pressed his face into her pussy.

Instantly, Draco's tongue retracted and he stood back up. He moved Hermione's arms back over her head, saying, "Third time's a charm right?"

"Please," Hermione keened. She thrust her hips into his and could feel that he was just as aroused as her.

"No," Draco simply answered, forcing her back against the wall. "If you can't follow the rules of the game, I'm going to have to tie you down and make you follow them."

"I thought it was a test, not a game," Hermione breathed.

Draco silenced her argument with by engulfing her lips with his. When he was satisfied that she wouldn't question him again, he restarted his ministrations with an even slower and more maddening precision.

Hermione's body squirmed and wriggled, writhed and bucked, yet she kept her hands pressed against the wall. When Draco finally reached her panties again and ran his tongue over the dripping cloth, Hermione let out a long moan of anticipation and clawed at the wall. Inch by agonizing inch, Draco pulled her panties down her legs. After tossing the damp scrap of cloth to the side, he nuzzled his nose against the patch of hair covering her pussy and, ever so lightly, flicked the tip of his tongue over her pulsing nub.

Hermione howled, "Please!" and slammed her hands against the wall.

Draco looked up at her with a wicked grin. "Congratulations, you've passed the test. Though, I can only give you an A, for Acceptable, since it took three tries."

"Fabulous," Hermione panted. "What now?"

"Now, your reward." Draco kissed her hard and plunged a finger between her folds.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Hermione purred against his lips.

He added another finger and beckoned with them against her pulsating walls. Leaving her bruised and swollen lips, Draco knelt down, gently parted her folds, and encircled her clit with his tongue. Hermione buried her fingers in his soft hair, tugging at his locks while she grinded against his face.

As her walls started to quiver, Draco started thrusting his fingers faster and deeper, and his sinful tongue fluttered against her clit at a mind melting speed. Crooking his fingers against her swollen core was her undoing. The pleasure and anticipation, that had been coiling inside her, reached the breaking point and Hermione splintered. She let out a final cry of ecstasy as she clenched and twitched around Draco's fingers.

Wasting no time, Draco stood and quickly shed his briefs, letting his cock finally spring free. Hermione ran her hand over her pussy, gathering some of her juices, and then started stroking his waiting erection. Draco leaned forward, humming his pleasure against her ear.

"I need to be inside you, now," Draco demanded. He lifted Hermione so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. With one hand supporting her arse, Draco took his cock in the other and circled her entrance several times before burying himself inside her.

Hermione wrapped her legs around him tighter, bridging any gap that may have remained between their bodies. It appeared as though Draco's time for patience and willpower was spent. There was nothing slow and controlled about his actions now. He thrust into her hard, crushing her back into the wall.

She didn't think she could handle another orgasm, but her body had other plans. It didn't take long for that pressure to build again and Hermione sank her teeth into Draco's shoulder as she came undone for a second time.

Her explosion spurred Draco on. He hammered into her harder, burying his face into her neck and biting along the sensitive flesh. Hermione dug her fingernails into his back as his hips snapped against her. She moaned against him, riding out her orgasm and preparing for his.

His words were punctuated with grunts and thrusts as he growled, "You don't know how crazy you make me. Bite me again," he demanded. Hermione bit into his other shoulder.

Draco dug his fingers into her arse and locked her into a bruising kiss as his eruption consumed him. Hermione continued to slowly grind against him until he shuttered to stillness, breathing heavy against her lips.

"Now I feel slightly drunk," he whispered. "I can't feel my legs."

Hermione let out a raspy giggle and said, "Maybe if you put me down."

"Good idea."

Stumbling a bit, he carried her around the corner to his bedroom and unceremoniously dropped her on the bed.

"Not quite what I meant," Hermione muttered, scooting herself up and collapsing on a pillow. Draco flopped down beside her and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Hermione rolled onto her stomach and was just starting to drift off when Draco's voice brought her back.

"Granger, this seems dumb to ask now, but are you-"

"Yes, you don't have to worry," she mumbled in reply.

"Okay, but what do you use?"

"Muggle pill."

Draco fell silent again and Hermione started dozing off. The silence didn't last long, though.

"Aren't you going to ask about me?"

Hermione groaned and rolled to face him. "Are you on birth control, Malfoy?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, not amused with her sarcasm. "I meant, aren't you worried that I might give you something?"

"Are you saying you're diseased?"

"No! But one would think you'd be more concerned about making sure."

"Good lord, your pillow talk is horrible. There's never been any concern. I know you're not diseased."

"How?" he challenged.

Hermione let out an irritated squeak and sat up, glaring down at him. "Because you're not some unknown dirtbag I picked up at the bar. I know how picky you are and how much of a control freak you are- with  _everything_ , not just who you sleep with. Knowing that, I'm certain you have your own vetting process for the women you jump into bed with, and should anything out of the normal arise, your arse would be in St. Mungos getting checked out quicker than Bowtruckles swarming Doxy eggs. Did I miss anything there?"

Draco didn't say anything and Hermione laid back down. She didn't close her eyes. She knew what was coming next.

"How do I know you're not-"

"Because I haven't been with anyone else since Ron. Now, go to sleep."

"Right." Draco settled back on his pillow and Hermione rolled back over. "It's good we got that out of the way. Better late than-"

"Go the fuck to sleep, Malfoy!"

 

A/N- I've been working on this chapter for a while and am so happy to finally get it done and posted. Hope it doesn't disappoint! If anyone would like to check it out, I started an author's Facebook page for myself. I'm hoping it helps keep people updated on my stories and will allow me to reply to questions/comments quicker. https://www.facebook.com/PrettiestStar17/


	11. Chapter 11

The following morning, as was usual, Hermione woke before Draco. Deciding to be a little nosy, she crept out of bed and into Draco’s en suite bathroom. It was the last bit of his flat she hadn’t seen and was unsurprised to find it as bare as the other rooms.

Draco’s style wasn’t exactly minimalist, but for a man that could afford anything he desired, a person would never know it by simply glancing around his home. There weren’t any pieces of art on the wall or lavish knick-knacks and appliances. The most personal items one could find was his collection of books. There was one bookcase in the sitting room lined with everything from Greek literature to Alchemy handbooks. When she had peeked into his second bedroom, the week before, she found boxes upon boxes filled with more tomes. Hermione couldn’t help but admit that she was a tiny bit jealous of his personal library. 

His en suite was the same. Bare, eggshell colored walls with a basic sink and toilet. A closer look in the shower revealed that Draco was used to a few of the finer amenities. The shampoo and soap weren’t a brand you would find browsing the aisles of the local chemist, and when Hermione ran her hand over his towels, the softness could have rivaled that of a newborn kitten. Instead of a normal shower head, there was an overhead, rainfall shower.

Hermione bit her lip as she eyed up the shower. Hot water cascading over her body was a heavenly thought at that moment. She reached out and slowly turned the handle. The water flowed and took only seconds to heat up. Back in New York, she had to let the shower run for at least three minutes for it to gain any sense of warmth. When she stepped in and the flow hit her body, she contemplated the possibility of trading her magic for the water pressure at home to match what she was feeling right then. 

As she lathered Draco’s shampoo into her hair, Hermione let her mind wander back to the events of the previous evening. She immediately felt guilty for how she treated Ron. The poor sod was only trying to help and make sure she got to the right destination. He had been right- she was being unreasonably bitchy. Giving a sigh of defeat, she made a mental note to add a stop on her travels back to Harry and Ginny’s. 

Wrapped in the fluffiest towel her body had ever felt, Hermione stood in front of the oversized, oval mirror. She swiped her hand over the layer of condensation that had gathered and inspected the damage Draco had done to her neck. One by one, she placed a Glamour spell on each bite mark and tried not to dwell on the acts that put them there, for fear of jumping back in bed and letting him undo all her spellwork. 

It was with great disappointment that she parted ways with her towel and slipped back into her dress. When she reentered the bedroom she found it empty. The sound of cabinets opening and closing were coming from the kitchen, so she made her way there, stopping momentarily to retrieve her purse from the hall floor. In the kitchen, she found Draco just sitting down at the table. Two bowls of cereal and two glasses of orange juice were set between him and an empty chair.

“What’s this?” Hermione asked skeptically.

“You said you like breakfast in the morning, so I made breakfast,” Draco answered, nodding to the bowls.

“You mean you poured cereal and juice?”

“I could unpour it, if you’d prefer,” he retorted with a scowl.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh and ran her hands through her damp curls. “No, I’m sorry. Thank you,” she said, sitting down in the empty chair. She poured milk over the cereal and took a sip of juice, under Draco’s scrutinous gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Just reflecting on how well you have yourself closed off,” Draco commented, taking a bite of his cereal.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve built up this impressive wall, hiding behind sarcasm and bitterness. You obviously drop it a bit when you’re around friends, but it’s always there, isn’t it? Won’t let anyone see the real you.”

Hermione dropped her spoon and glared across the table. Of all the conversations she wanted to start the day off with, this one landed dead last on the list. “If that’s not the pot calling the cauldron black.”

“Mmm, why do you think I’ve noticed it and your friends haven’t? You and I are more alike than either of us probably want to admit, Granger. Letting anyone over the wall let’s them see your weaknesses, doesn’t it? Makes you vulnerable.”

“And what weaknesses do you have behind your wall?”

“You first,” Draco replied.

Hermione said nothing. She picked her spoon back up and started eating, tense silence hanging in the air between them. After a couple minutes, Draco broke it and continued on with his amateur psychoanalysis.

“The difference between us, darling, is that people do know what I have behind my wall--”

“Which is?” Hermione interrupted.

Draco let out an irritated sigh. “The past, of course. It’s what behind yours, isn’t it?” Hermione said nothing, letting her silence confirm his assumptions. “The difference is that I’ve spent the last few years climbing over mine. You’ve only built up reinforcements. It’s not hard for you to do so in New York. No one there probably knows the real you anyway, so they can’t call you out on it. But now, now that you’re back around friends and family, it’s harder and you’re having to employ new strategies to cope and put up a happy front.”

Hermione pushed her bowl away and stood up. “You’re not telling me anything my therapist hasn’t told me a thousand times already. Thank you for breakfast.” She turned and started to leave.

“It should mean more coming from me,” Draco called after her.

Hermione spun around quickly and shot back, “And why’s that? Because I’m fucking you?”

Draco smirked and shook his head. “No, because you’re not paying me. I have no reason to bullshit you.” He turned his attention back to his cereal bowl.

“Fine, you’ve figured me out! I’m messed up! How do you suggest I fix it, Doctor Malfoy?” Hermione bit her lip, trying to force back her tears. Her efforts failed though, and she felt the wetness track down her cheeks.

Draco appeared taken aback at her sudden display of emotions and just stared at her for a moment before answering, “I-I don’t know Granger. I’m not going to pretend to know the demons that are tormenting you. Figure out what the root of it all is and start there.” He stood up and made a move towards her, but she held up her hand and he stopped. “For me, it was my father,” he continued.  “When I looked back on everything I hated about myself, he was always there in the shadows, almost like a puppet master. As soon as I started distancing myself from him, it helped bring everything else into focus.”

Hermione nodded. Her breathing was heavy and fast from her silent sobbing. She knew where she needed to start. She was just too much of a coward to take that step. Draco was right- it was easier in New York to push things to the side and not have to confront what really plagued her. Gods, she hated him being right! She hated herself even more, standing there, letting her tears cement his conclusions. Why was he being so sympathetic about it though? Part of her wanted him to gloat, throw it back in her face that he was right, so that she had an excuse to rage and scream!

As she thought about how to take her next step, she was surprised to find arms awkwardly encircling her. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’ve been led to believe that this is how the whole comforting thing works. I think it’s called a hug?”

Hermione let out a laugh between her sobs. As his arms relaxed around her, she slowly leaned against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. The screaming rage in her chest slowly started to fade away. When a content sigh involuntarily escaped her lips, her body stiffened. Draco immediately noticed the change and let his arms drop, as she pushed herself away from him. 

“I should get going,” she said hastily, moving towards the door. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Right. See ya, Granger.” 

Hermione nodded and let herself out. In the hallway, she let herself slump against the wall and closed her eyes. While sweet, Draco’s act of comfort toed the line of their platonic, sex only relationship. At the moment, she was feeling particularly vulnerable and needed to keep a sense of control. Letting herself get swept up in a moment, and possibly start feeling something for a person that would never reciprocate those feelings, would only lead to disappointment. There were more important things to deal with.

When she apparated, she found herself staring down a very familiar door. She wasn’t certain if he still lived here, but she hadn’t been told any different so she summoned up her courage and knocked. She heard the scraping of a chair and shuffling, then a lock being unhinged. When the door swung open, Hermione was face to face with her ex-husband.

For a few moments they just stood and stared, taking each other in. Ron’s usual Saturday appearance hadn’t changed. He still wore the same faded pajama pants, paired with a muscle shirt. She couldn’t help but smile a bit when she noticed a dribble of milk down the front. 

“Hey,” Ron finally said.

“Hey,” Hermione replied. 

“You missed a spot.” 

“What?” Hermione asked confusedly.

Ron reached out and pointed to her neck. “You missed a spot,” he repeated.

Hermione’s hand immediately flew to the back of her neck, trying to hide the incriminating mark. 

“Did you need something?” Ron asked, ignoring her childish reaction.

Hermione slowly removed her hand from her neck and nodded her head. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione said, “I wanted to come and say that I’m sorry for how I treated you last night. You didn’t deserve it. Thank you for helping me get home.”

“Even though you didn’t stay there,” he muttered.

“Ron, please! This isn’t easy for me and I’m really trying to build a bridge here.”

“And you think it’s easy for me to watch you go off and screw Malfoy at every opportunity?” Ron spat. 

“For Christ’s sake, Ronald!” Hermione pushed her way past him so that he could close the door and not let all the neighboring tenants endure the impending fight.

“I know we’ve separated and you’re free to see whoever you want, but Malfoy?  Really? You can do so much better than that prick!” Ron fumed as he slammed the door.

“Did Harry tell you about this?”

“No, no one told me about it. I don’t need to be told, Hermione. I have bloody eyes. I’ve seen how you’ve been acting around him since you arrived. And now you show up with with bite marks all over your neck, drenched in his stench, asking for forgiveness. How fucking stupid do you think I am?!”

Hermione bristled and said, “I never said anything about asking for forgiveness. I’m here because we need to talk, and not about Draco Malfoy.”

“Okay, let’s talk then.”

“Not now. I can’t handle it at this moment, and I especially can’t do it here.” Hermione glanced around her old flat, flashing back to easier times and happier moments. Her eyes landed on a dent in the wall and the flashbacks turned dark. 

She had been the one to make that dent, a few months before they had called it quits. Ron had come home and, without any warning, laid into her about having lunch with a fellow co-worker. He was adamant that that was definitive proof that she was running around behind his back. Hermione of course defended herself and said he was being paranoid, reading too much into a non-issue. The fight ended with Ron storming out of the flat and Hermione hurling her hardback edition of War and Peace at the wall.

Pulling herself back to the present, Hermione said, “Wednesday. Can you come over on Wednesday so we can talk? I’ll send Harry and Ginny out for a date night and make us dinner.”

“Yeah, all right. Wednesday works,” Ron agreed. “The shop closes at five. Five-thirty okay for you?”

“Sure. What shop though? What happened to the Ministry?” Hermione inquired.

“The Wizarding Wheezes shop. I’ve been there for the last year, helping George run the business,” he answered. “Harry never told you?”

“No, guess it never came up.” Hermione nodded and started for the door. “Right then, Wednesday night. Thank you, Ron.” She looked up and stared at the blue eyes that once melted her heart. “And, again, thank you for helping me last night. I really do appreciate it, even if my bitchy attitude last night didn’t quite show it.”

Ron smiled at her admission. “Bye, Hermione.”

Hermione waved.

“Bye, Ron.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What was this bloody woman doing to him? Draco Malfoy does not hug. Even his own mother knows not to expect them. So what made Hermione Granger the exception to yet another one of his rules?

Crying witches! It was his downfall. He couldn’t handle the tears; found them almost intimidating. He always felt guilty when he was in the presence of a crying woman. And this time he was at fault. He had pushed her to the edge, getting some sort of sick pleasure from picking apart her insecurities....

He never meant to sincerely hurt Hermione. He’d only been trying to engage her in the usual back and forth, scathing banter he had gotten used to having with her. But once he started seeing beneath her layers of defense, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling back more. He saw so much of himself reflected in her armor and part of him really wanted to know what she was hiding behind it.

Fucking hell….this is exactly why Draco limited his intimate affairs with women to one night of shagging. He didn’t want the emotional weight that came along with a proper relationship. And, as he had so bluntly been told before, he couldn’t handle it. It was true though. He had a hard enough time sorting out his own head. Thinking he could emotionally invest in any sort of personal relationship only led to disastrous ends. 

Draco twirled his quill between his fingers, as those thoughts buzzed around his mind early Monday morning. He should have been in the lab, but he was in no state to work with chemicals and potions, so he shut himself up in his office, pretending to look over case reports for Harry. Truth was, he had finished those reports Friday afternoon and had just spent the last hour or so at his desk, sulking. 

With a defeated groan, Draco heaved himself from the chair, grabbed the files, and started making his way to the Magical Law Enforcement department. Three quick raps on Harry’s office door and Draco was invited in.

“Finished going over those reports for you,” Draco said, handing the files over to Harry.

Harry took them and glanced over the names. “Thanks. Anything stand out?”

“Nah. They’re mainly low level, Mundungus style grifters. Their business practices tend to ride of the line of legality, but there’s nothing dark associated with them.”

Harry nodded and placed the files on a shelf behind him. “I’ll make sure to pass them along to the Magical Trade and Commerce division. They can keep their eye on them. Few less arseholes I have to worry about.” He turned back to Draco and continued, “I’ll be out, undercover, all of tomorrow morning. Want to join us?”

“What do you think Potter?”

Harry laughed. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“I’ve spent all of this morning avoiding my lab duties. I’ll be spending tomorrow playing catch-up,” Draco explained. 

“You? Avoiding work? Are you all right? Should I call in a healer?” Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

Draco gave him an exasperated look. “Let me rephrase it. I’m not so much avoiding work as I am recognizing that I’m not in the right state of mind, thus keeping clear of the lab today for the safety of myself and others.”

“Still, very un-Malfoy like. Everything okay?”

“I’m fine Potter. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,” Draco reassured. “Less than a week now before the big day. Are you ready for it?”

“You mean am I ready to be done with the endless discussions on flowers, colors, music, themes, table settings, and every other mundane thing that a wedding entails? No, please, give me another year of it all,” Harry said dryly.

Draco laughed. “So glad I dodged that curse.”

Harry looked at him skeptically. “Are you?”

“Definitely.” Draco stared back at Harry’s unwavering skepticism and sighed. “I’m not saying there’s no merit to marriage. I’m just saying it’s not for me. You and Ginny are the together forever types. I’m more the eternal bachelor.”

“You’ve given up too easily, Malfoy.”

“No. I’ve simply accepted my lot in life early, and figured out how to make the best of it. Women only bring chaos into my life.” Draco hesitated for a moment, before deciding to go out on a limb and asked, “Speaking of chaos, how has Granger been?”

Harry grinned and dropped his quill. “Why do you ask?”

“For Salazar’s sake, Potter. Wipe that smug smile from your face. I only ask because when she left my flat the other morning, she wasn’t exactly in a great state of mind and I was….” Draco trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence.

“Worried?” Harry supplied.

“No, worry implies there are emotions involved. I was just wondering if she made it back to your place okay.”

“That’s called worry, Draco. Join us on the un-robotic side of humanity. I promise, it won’t kill you.”

“You keep using ‘robot’ like it’s an insult, but I have no clue what that is. Step your game up, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of all the people that could have used a Muggle Studies class.”

“Now you just sound like Granger.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “To assuage your previous curiosity, Hermione has been just fine. She came home Saturday a bit upset with Ron, but that’s nothing unusual.”

“I’d keep an eye on her.”

Harry’s amused expression dropped away, replaced with one of concern. “Why do you say that?”

“Are you serious?” Draco looked at his friend incredulously. How was it that, after three weeks, he could see that Hermione Granger was on a slow, downward spiral, yet her best friends were oblivious? Damn, she really has her cover act nailed, Draco thought. 

“She’s not herself, Harry. She’s been living in your house. How have you not seen that?”

“What’s going on? And how do you know all of this?”

“I guess I’ve gotten used to the look of pain and suffering being reflected back at me.” Draco sighed and ran his hand roughly through his hair. “She sort of opened up to me a bit the other morning. She didn’t share any specifics,” Draco added quickly, before Harry could interrupt, “but she mentioned seeing a therapist, back in New York, and had a minor breakdown. I didn’t push for details and she threw her defenses back up pretty quick.”

Harry pursed his lips and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “We knew about her seeing a therapist, but just assumed it was due to the divorce and moving to a new country.” He fell silent for a contemplative minute. “Why do you care, though?” he finally asked.

“For fuck’s sake,” Draco groaned. “Fine, I admit it! I’m not a completely heartless bastard. While I may not go out of my way to help people, I don’t enjoy seeing anyone in pain. I know what it feels like to be trapped within yourself and it’s a shitty way to exist.”

Harry nodded and said, “I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in work and wedding stuff, I haven’t really noticed much else. I figured it’d be tough for her, coming back for the first time since everything. I just chalked up the awkwardness to that. She asked Ginny and I if we could go out for the evening, on Wednesday, so she could have some time to talk to Ron. Maybe once she talks to him, she’ll let us in on what’s going on.”

So, Weasley was at the root of it all? Draco wasn’t surprised by this, but he was a bit taken aback by how much it annoyed him. Of course, the redhead annoyed him by simply breathing….

“Is that the only reason for your  _ concern _ ?” Harry asked, breaking into Draco’s thoughts. “Nothing else behind it?” 

“Are you trying to insinuate there’s more to me and Granger than just shagging?” The corners of Harry’s eyes crinkled in amusement and Draco laughed. “The Chudley Cannons have a better chance at being top of the table.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“I’ll redirect you to my earlier comment about eternal bachelorhood.” 

“Draco, are you really going to let her dictate the rest of your life?” Harry sighed in exasperation. 

“Watch it now.” Draco pointed his finger at Harry and gave him a stern look, saying, “You’re starting to sound like Narcissa,” before cracking back into a smile.

“I know you hate to hear it, but your mother is right. It was one relationship that--”

“That made me realize how shit I truly am at relationships,” Draco finished. “I’ve moved on. I suggest everyone else does the same.” 

“Whatever you say, mate,” Harry finally conceded. “Who knows? Maybe Hermione and Ron will be able to work things out and get back together, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”

“As you said, stranger things have happened,” Draco replied, turning to leave. As he left, Draco quickly added, “I’m working through lunch today, so I’ll see you when I see you.”

“So, tomorrow then?”

“When I see you, Potter,” Draco repeated, exiting the Auror’s office and retreating to the solace of his own. 

 

A/N- Just wanted to add a quick thanks for everyone that has been reading/reviewing/favoriting my stories. I apologize that I don't really have a set schedule of when I can update. We've hit the four week countdown to when this new baby is due, and anyone that knows babies knows that that means anytime now! So I'm going to keep trying to write and update, but it might get even more sporadic over the next few month or so, and I just wanted to give a preemptive apology.


	12. Chapter 12

*****Trigger Warning*** I don't want to reveal too much about this chapter, but I do want to give a heads up that it deals with a traumatizing issue.**

 

“Are you okay? You seem a bit upset. Are you upset?”

Hermione did her best not to roll her eyes as she replied, “What’s with the twenty questions? I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine though. You look upset. Are you mad at Draco?”

“No.”

“Ron?”

“No.”

“Who then?”

“You! You keep stepping on my bloody toes!” Hermione cried in frustration.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he paused their dance for a moment to look down at their feet.

“I hope Ginny protects her feet with some shield charms on Saturday,” Hermione muttered.

“Sorry, Min,” Harry apologized. He pulled her close once again and restarted their Tango. “I guess Ginny was right in signing us up for these classes.” After a minute though, he launched back into his interrogation. “Are you really okay though? You really do seem a bit off, not quite yourself.”

Hermione took a few seconds to read her friend’s face. It was almost pained with concern. “I have a lot of things on my mind at the moment, but I promise I’m fine. And if Ron and I can get through tomorrow night without strangling one another, I’ll be even better.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Harry insisted. “Judgement free zone here,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze as the music faded away.

Tears welled up in the corner of Hermione’s eyes. She pulled Harry into a tight hug and was able to fight back her sudden urge to sob, as he squeezed her back.

“You know, I was only joking when I said I’d share.”

Hermione giggled as she let go of Harry and smiled at Ginny.

“I hope you plan on using protection on Saturday,” Hermione warned.

Ginny’s eyes bulged and she quickly looked around. “Pretty sure we’re passed that point,” she hissed.

“I meant for your feet,” Hermione laughed, playfully shoving Harry towards Ginny. “I need to go soak my toes in a bucket of ice.”

“Hey now! I may not be Fred Astaire, but I’m not that horrible,” Harry protested.

“Of course you’re not, darling,” Ginny reassured, running her hand through his hair. Harry shook his head and waved her off her condescension. Ginny turned her attention back to Hermione. “I can’t believe Draco didn’t show up tonight.”

Hermione shrugged and said, “Guess a better alternative popped up.”

“You’re okay with that?” Harry asked, shooting her a skeptical look.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” When Harry didn’t answer, Hermione continued, “He’s free to make his own choices. It’s not like he and I are….well, anything. Maybe a fortnight of shagging the same woman got boring.” The last comment came out more bitter than she had intended and she could tell her tone was not lost on her friends.

“Was he okay at work today?” Ginny asked Harry. “Did he mention not making it to the class tonight?”

“I actually haven’t seen him since Monday morning,” Harry answered. “I was out all of this morning and only caught fleeting glimpses of him in the afternoon. Never a moment to really chat.”

“It’s not like it’s a major scandal, here,” Hermione insisted. Hermione summoned her purse and pulled out an elastic. Her lengthening charms finally had her hair reaching past her shoulders and the bright lights were making her sweaty. She swept her locks up into a messy bun and said, “There’s a little cafe about a block or so away. I think I’m going to go grab a drink. You two want to join?”

“Not tonight, sorry,” Harry answered. “I’ve got a ton of stuff I have to finish up over the next few days before I take off for the wedding and honeymoon.”

Hermione looked to Ginny and received a sad smile. “I would, but I’m knackered. Plus, if I have any caffeine now then I’ll never get to sleep.”

Hermione nodded and gave her friend a hug. “Go get some rest. I shouldn’t be too long.”

Stepping outside, a welcomed breeze blew across Hermione’s bare neck. The sun had just started it’s descent, leaving brilliant streaks of color across the sky. She had been trying to savor the mild English weather over the last few days before she had to return to the stuffy heat and humidity of New York City. Breathing in the fresh air, Hermione turned left and took her time meandering to the cafe.

Iced coffee in hand, she snagged an outside table and slowly sipped her drink while she watched the parade of people pass by. A myriad of thoughts kept cycling through her mind, and Hermione didn’t want to dwell on a single one of them at the moment. She tried to quiet them by studying the men and women that she saw, making up little stories about their backgrounds and where they were going. It worked, but just as Hermione’s stories were becoming more intricate and complex, one of the baristas came out to inform her that they were closing for the evening and would be needing to take her table and chair inside.

Hermione tossed her long emptied coffee cup in the bin and continued walking up the street. She wasn’t sure where she wanted to go, or what she wanted to do. She wasn’t in the mood to go back to Harry and Ginny’s. The influx of caffeine had her feeling restless and needing to move about. As she walked, her mind wandered to what the following evening held in store for her.

Hermione was more than a little nervous to sit down and talk to Ron. She had no idea how he would react to her confession. In the end, she knew she had to get this weight off her chest and come clean with him. She couldn’t go back to New York still keeping a shared past hidden from the one person that deserved to know. For the moment, though, all she wanted to do was forget and deal with it when the time arrived.

The silver key was in her pocket. Hermione had been expecting Draco to show up for the dance lesson, equipped with an arsenal of insinuations that would leave her hot and bothered as they tangoed across the studio. Instead, she was left only bothered that he ended up being a no-show. What really bothered her was that she was indeed bothered by it! She shouldn’t be caring about what, or who, Draco was doing instead. Both of them had been clear about the premise of their hookups- neither wanted a relationship beyond that of a sexual nature. So why did she have this jealousy eating away at the back of her brain when she thought of him ditching her to go shag some other no-named slag?!

“Whoa!” Hermione exclaimed, stopping suddenly in the middle of the footpath.

A woman behind her was able to quickly alter her steps and move around Hermione. She touched Hermione’s shoulder and asked, “Are you okay, dear?”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Hermione answered quickly. “Just a touch of vertigo. Should pass soon.” She smiled and moved to lean against a nearby bike rack. The woman gave her a reassuring smile and continued walking. “Get yourself together, Hermione,” she muttered to herself. “You don’t care about him because he doesn’t care about you. Outside of the bedroom, there is nothing.”

Hermione stood up and swung her arms, trying to shake off her minor meltdown. As she looked around, she noticed that several people had stopped and were looking at her, almost as if they were deciding whether she was a run of the mill nutter or if authorities should be involved. Hermione plastered on a fake, hopefully sane looking, smile and speed walked to the nearest alleyway. Thankfully, aside from a rogue stray cat, it was deserted and she was able to safely apparate away.

She let herself into Draco’s apartment, not worrying about being silent or if she’d find him in a compromising position with someone else. She toed off her trainers by the door and tossed her purse onto the side table, with his keys and mail. Draco was reclined on the couch, still in his work trousers and button up shirt. He glanced up from his book when Hermione walked in, but said nothing and went right back to reading.

She hadn’t expecting some heartfelt apology for skipping the class, but now she wasn’t even worthy of a courtesy greeting? Arse…

“Missed you in class tonight. I was the only one without a partner,” Hermione said, stepping into the sitting room.

“I’m sure Weasley was happy to take my place,” Draco replied, without looking up.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You need to be more specific when it comes to a roomful of Weasleys.”

“No, I don’t. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” Draco tossed his book to the floor and rose to his feet. “What are you doing here anyway?” he asked, breezing past Hermione to the kitchen.

Hermione stood dumbfounded for a moment, before turning to follow him. “The same reason I’ve shown up here every other time.” She watched as he aimlessly moved from cupboard to cupboard, as if purposefully avoiding her gaze. His shirt was untucked and the top two buttons undone.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re going to have to find your escape elsewhere tonight,” Draco replied. He grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey, summoned a tumbler, conjured two ice cubes, then drowned them under a generous amount of his chosen poison. One gulp later, the amber liquid was gone and Draco was pouring himself a second.

“Christ, whose wand do you have shoved up your arse tonight? I don’t know what horrible injustice I’ve committed against you tonight, but if you’d rather drink than fuck go right ahead. I don’t need your cryptic bullshit tonight.”

Hermione turned to leave, but Draco’s voice stopped her.

“I don’t fuck women that are already seeing another bloke,” he said, finally meeting her stare. “I may be a lot of shitty things, but an adulterer isn’t one of those. Sorry, princess.”

“Are you seriously insinuating what I think you are right now?” Hermione laughed. Draco said nothing and downed his second drink. Hermione summoned the bottle of Firewhiskey to her before he could pour another round. “What on earth would make you think I’ve gotten back together with Ron since I last saw you?”

“Potter said you went round to see him, and are kicking him and Ginny out so you and Weasley can ‘talk’ tomorrow night.” The pompous arse actually made air quotes at the word ‘talk’ and Hermione narrowed her eyes. “You want to get back with Weasel, that’s none of my business. Go remarry him and have a whole litter of ginger weasels. But you don’t get to use me as a side fuck.”

Hermione’s voice caught in her throat and she set the bottle of Firewhiskey on the table, fearing she might drop it. She took several deep breaths before daring to speak again.

“You’re the one that told me to face my past demons,” she started, taking great care to keep her voice calm and even. “Yes, I plan on talking to Ron tomorrow night. No, I am not getting back together with him and I definitely don’t plan on fucking him anytime in the near future. The probability of me fucking you again in the near future is rapidly dwindling though, seeing as how quick you are to label me as a whore.”

Draco snorted a laugh. “Please. It would take me all of thirty seconds to have you in my bed, naked and begging. Stop trying to kid yourself that you’re not like any of the others that have come before you.”

Hermione took two strides forward and, before she could stop herself, her right hand swiftly connected with his left cheek. His silver eyes sparked as he slowly brought his own hand up to his reddening face.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Hermione finally said, “I’m not apologizing.”

“I didn’t ask for one. Do it again.”

“Fuck off Malfoy…”

“It wasn’t a request.”

Without another thought, Hermione’s palm collided with Draco’s face once more. A savage growl erupted from Draco’s throat and he started to raise his clenched fists. Hermione stood her ground, preparing to defend herself.

Instead of a retaliatory slap, Draco’s hands grasped her shirt and tore it half, as if it was nothing more than paper. He pushed her backwards until she was pressed against the table and his lips came crashing down against hers.

Hermione swirled her tongue around his, letting the remnants of the his Firewhiskey burn down her throat. Draco yanked her bra down, letting her breasts spill out over the lace. He grabbed one in each hand, making Hermione gasp and break the kiss. Draco moved from her mouth and started kissing her neck.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Hermione rasped, shedding the scraps that were once her shirt.

“I know.”

“I liked that shirt.”

“I’ve seen you in better.”

“Merlin, I hate you,” she groaned as ran his thumbs over her nipples.

“No, you don’t.” He grabbed her round the waist and lifted her onto the table.

“You’re a narcissistic, preten- ooooh…” Her rant faltered as Draco took a nipple into his mouth and sucked.

“Keep going,” he murmured against her aroused peak.

“Pretentious, vain prat,” Hermione panted. Draco’s teeth nipped at her sensitive flesh and Hermione fell back on the table, knocking salt and pepper shakers to the floor. Draco wasted no time taking advantage of her new position and took it upon himself to relieve her of her shorts and panties.

“While that may be true, if you really hated me would you still be here? Allowing me to do this?”

Draco swiftly parted her legs. Hermione raised her head slightly and watched as he licked his fore and middle fingers, before plunging them into her core. Foreplay was not on his agenda that evening. He started pumping hard and fast and Hermione gripped the sides of the table as her need for release quickly built. She tried to hold back her orgasm, wanting to make the jerk work for it, but her body betrayed her.

Her pleasured cries echoed through the kitchen. As her moans subsided, Hermione let her head thud back against the table. She jerked back up when Draco plunged his head between her legs to lick up his reward. His silver eyes appeared over her hips and locked with hers. Hermione groaned and gave him a shove back with her knees.

Draco fell back into a chair, staring at her with a smug and satisfied look on his face. Hermione sat up and readjusted her bra.

“Still hate me?” He casually asked as Hermione eased herself off the table.

“My hate seems to have dampened to dislike. If you play your cards right, it might fizzle to mild aversion.”

Draco’s lips curled up in a evil grin. “I always play with an ace up my sleeve.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Draco was abruptly woken by a distant crash, followed by a loud scream.

“Who’s there?!” he yelled, bolting up and groping for his wand. “What’s wrong?” Whipping his head back and forth, his eyes finally focused on Hermione. She was sitting up, clutching the sheet to her chest, her amber eyes wide and unblinking. “Granger, what’s wrong?” he breathed, falling back onto his pillow.

“The crash,” she whispered, swiping at her eyes.

“Yeah, stupid Muggles take the stop sign as more of a suggestion than a law,” Draco yawned, aimlessly waving his hand in the direction of the main street. “There’s at least one idiot a month that runs it and gets slammed.”

“Right,” Hermione whispered. She swung her legs off the bed, muttering, “I need the bathroom.”

       Draco closed his eyes and dozed back off. He wasn’t sure how long he was out for, but he woke again when he rolled over and found the room dark and his bed empty.

        “I thought we were done with this shit,” he muttered. Draco buried his head in a pillow and tried to get back to sleep. He could hear the muffled sounds of the accident aftermath outside- drivers arguing, glass being swept up, a tow truck backing in, a woman sobbing.

        Draco’s eyes popped open and he listened closer. The sobbing was coming from his living room. After pulling on pants and a  t-shirt, Draco quietly moved out into the hall and peeked into the living room.

        Hermione was sat on the couch, wearing only her bra and panties. She had her legs pulled close, her chin resting on her knees. The flash of red and blue emergency responder lights highlighted the tears flowing over her cheeks as she stared blankly out the window.

         Draco crept away from the living room and into the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later, carrying a tray with mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. He set the tray on the coffee table and eased a steaming mug into Hermione’s trembling hands. He held onto them until he was sure she wouldn’t drop the drink in her lap.

         After wrapping a blanket around her bare shoulders, Draco picked up his own mug of tea and sat down in the arm chair across from Hermione. She stared down at her tea and then turned her bloodshot eyes to him.

        “Chamomile,” Draco said, nodding at the drink. “My mother got it for me when I was having difficulty sleeping. Tastes like shit, but it won’t keep you up.”

        Hermione nodded and turned her gaze back to the window. There was now clanging coming from outside as the tow truck hitched up one of the cars.

        “So glad we can apparate,” Draco commented, trying to fill the silent void. “Muggle cars seem like such a hassle.”

        His casual observation seemed to hurt more than help. Hermione let out another sob and fresh tears flowed.

       “Sorry,” Draco apologized, though he wasn’t sure what for.

       Hermione shook her head, sending her disheveled honey curls swirling around her face.

       “You didn’t do anything,” she whispered, staring down at her tea. “It’s me and my anxiety and I…” Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard. “I’m a horrible person. I don’t know how I’m going to face him tomorrow,” she cried.

        “You know, the ‘Horrible Person Club’ is pretty exclusive. As club president. I find it hard to believe you qualify for membership,” Draco joked. Hermione gave him a pained look. “Sorry, I’m not exactly the best with this sort of stuff. Umm, you want to talk about it?” He offered.

        “No….I mean, yes, but…” Hermione chewed on her lower lip. “It’s just...I’ve never talked to anyone but my therapist about it,” Hermione admitted. “It feels wrong telling you before I talk to Ron.”

       “Maybe if you talk to an unbiased friend about it, it’ll be easier to talk to Weasley tomorrow?” Draco suggested.

      “Friend?”

      “Fuck buddy seemed inappropriate for the moment.” Draco breathed a little sigh of relief when he caught her lips twitch upwards. “No pressure though. We can just sit and drink horrible tea if you want.”

       Hermione sniffled and looked out the window once more. Draco relaxed back in his chair and took a gulp of his drink, attempting not to gag. No amount of sugar could make it acceptable. He was contemplating the possibility of dumping some Ogden’s into it and was caught off guard when Hermione spoke again.

       “I feel like I should give you a bit of a quick explanation of living in the states, specifically New York.”

      Draco nodded, silently encouraging her to continue.

      Hermione took a sip of her tea, scrunched her nose in disgust, and sat the mug back on the tray. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and took a deep breath.

       “American wizards and witches don’t have a great relationship with Muggles, or No-Majes as they call them. There are still strict laws in place about performing magic in front of them and many wizards choose not to engage with Muggles at all. In the big cities, it’s hard to apparate places. For this reason, most of us over there use Muggle style transportation to avoid apparating on top of each other in the designated spots.”

       She picked up a biscuit and nibbled on an edge before continuing.

       “I moved over there right after the divorce. Things started out really well. My job wasn’t very exciting, but the city was. I had the chance to start anew, and wanted to make the most of it.”

       “That feeling was gone by the end of the first month.” Her voice reduced to a whisper as she said, “I found out shortly after moving that I was pregnant.”

        Draco kept his expression passive, but it felt like his brain had come to an abrupt halt. That wasn’t what he had been expecting her to say.

         “And the father was—“

         “Ron of course!” Hermione cried.

         “But how?” Draco shook his head and corrected himself, saying, “I mean, when?”

         “The night before I left. I went back to the apartment to get the last of my things and Ron was there, even though he had said he wouldn’t be. This of course led to a fight, which somehow led to us ripping each others clothes off and taking our aggression out on each other. Not unlike you and I tonight.”

“Don’t,” Draco interrupted, holding up his hand. “I already feel like gagging from the tea. If you compare me to Weasley, I just may vomit.” He grinned when Hermione couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sorry,” she said, before continuing with her story. “So, I ended up leaving England pregnant, but not knowing it. When I found out, I was scared and had no idea what to do. I didn’t want to come back to England, but I had no clue how I would be able to raise a child, by myself, in a strange city.”

“Why were you so against coming back here?” Draco asked. “I can’t imagine your parents disowning you over an unexpected pregnancy.”

“Pride,” Hermione answered, matter of factly. “I wanted to prove that I was perfectly fine on my own. I had chosen to move out of the country and to move back home, so soon after, felt like I was giving up. Plus, I was too much of a coward to face Ron and his family.”

“I went crazy trying to figure out the best way to tell him. It seemed too insensitive to just send an owl with the news, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back. I finally settled on inviting him to New York, so that we could talk on neutral ground, away from what I was sure would be meddling families.” She slowly picked up her mug and took a slow sip. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” she remarked, licking her lips. “I must have written a hundred letters, trying to put into text the best way to persuade Ron to come and talk. Obviously we hadn’t split on the best terms, and neither of us were eager to see the other. I hit five months and still hadn’t told him.”

“Five months?” Draco echoed in surprise.

“Yeah, I know, I’m pathetic.” Her eyes went glassy again and her voice softened. “It was all starting to become so real and I felt like pieces of my life were falling into place. The city wasn’t as intimidating and I had started to make friends at work. I had had an ultrasound and got to see the baby, hear the heartbeat. I was far enough along that they could tell I was having a girl. The thought of going back to tell Ron wasn’t so scary anymore. I was confident we could come to a civil agreement on how to share custody and raise our daughter. To make sure I went through with it, I bought myself an expensive, first class plane ticket. As fate would have it, I never got to use it.”

Draco frowned and it felt like a boulder had dropped into the pit of his stomach. He had been expecting Hermione to tell him that she had placed the baby up for adoption, without ever telling Ron about the child’s existence. He now realized that this story had a much different ending.

Hermione took a deep breath and he could see that she was determined to make it through her tale.

“MACUSA sent me uptown one day for a meeting. I was the newest person on staff, and often got stuck going to the boring, mandatory meetings. This particular one was at a place I had never been to before, so I took a Muggle taxi. We got to the building, but there was no place to park. The driver double parked and as I leaned forward to pay, another car rear ended us. I was flung head-first into the dividing window and knocked out. When I came to, I was strapped to a gurney, being loaded into an ambulance with blood dripping down my face.”

“It was the most surreal, out of body experience. Pain was coursing through my right hand and my head felt like it weighed a ton. I was thrashing against the grips of the paramedics, trying to tell them that I was pregnant, but I was so dazed that I couldn’t string together a coherent sentence. They kept shining bright lights in my eyes, shouting out questions that I couldn’t answer. Finally I was able to yell out ‘baby’ and that brought the commotion to a brief standstill, and then a new chaos ensued.”

She paused for a moment and took another gulp of her tea. Draco watched silently, almost afraid about what she would say next. When he had talked about finding out what was behind Hermione’s well crafted wall, this was not been what he had been expecting.

“When we arrived at the hospital, they sent me straight for an ultrasound. The nurses were very sweet, reassuring me that everything was going to be fine and that they just needed to have a quick check on the baby. I remember nodding and agreeing, but I knew then that she was gone.”

Draco attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat as new tears cascaded down Hermione’s face.

“I had to wait another few hours while they performed scans to find out the degree of concussion I had, and an x-ray to confirm a broken wrist. When they finally induced labor, I was so numb and confused from all the pain medications, I don’t even remember pushing. I have a vague memory of a far away voice asking if I’d like to hold my daughter. I must have said yes, because the next thing I remember is someone curling my good hand around a bundle of blankets. She was so tiny, so perfect,  and so...still. I kept thinking it had to be a dream. This couldn’t be real. Any moment I’d wake up in my apartment and feel her fluttering about in my stomach.”

Hermione’s breathing started coming quick, strangling her sobs. Draco quickly moved to the couch, placing a gentle hand on her back.

“I know I should have told Ron right away, but the emptiness I felt was so painful and all-consuming. I didn’t want anyone else to have to go through it. So I buried it and went on as if nothing had happened. I thought I was doing the right thing, sparing Ron from the heartache I had to endure. In a way I envied him; he got to go about his life, oblivious to it all. I know now, of course, how selfish and isolating that was, but I wasn’t exactly in a great state of mind. I guess I’m still not now.”

The two sat in silence for several minutes. Hermione’s breathing slowed down and she was able to finish her tea. Draco stared down at his feet, not knowing what to say, or if he should even say anything at all. He was spared from having to decide when Hermione spoke first.

“There you have it. That is what I’ve been hiding under all my armor,” she said, placing her empty mug on the coffee table. “Am I horrible enough for your exclusive club?”

Draco looked up and into her toffee colored eyes. Though tired and bloodshot, they shined beautifully and Draco couldn’t help but tenderly brush her unruly curls to the side, so that he had an unobstructed view.

“No,” he murmured letting his hand fall on top of hers. “Sorry, but you’re just not that horrible.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” Hermione whispered, looking down at their hands. “What makes you so horrible that you get to claim the presidency?”

“Really, Granger?” Draco snorted in disbelief. He abruptly stood, gathering the mugs. “We both know my checkered past and neither of us wants to relive it.”

“Yes, but you’re not the same person now,” Hermione called as he took the mugs to the kitchen.

“I like to think not, but unfortunately a lot of people still don’t see it that way.” He returned to the living and shrugged his shoulders, explaining, “People don’t expect much from me, so I figure I’ll just live up to those expectations. Why put in the effort when no one is going to take you seriously?”

“Who’s the girl that broke your heart?”

“Broke my heart,” Draco scoffed. Hermione raised her eyebrows expectantly and Draco sighed. “Potter been talking about me?”

“No, he doesn’t tell stories that aren’t his. But from the way he and Ginny talked, I was able to deduce that you had your own relationship troubles.”

“I think I’m going to need something a bit stronger than tea if I’m going to talk about _her_ ,” Draco groaned. He flicked his wand and a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses flew in from the kitchen. He poured out the liquor, handing one of the glasses over to Hermione. “Apologies, but I’m fresh out of limes.”

“Cheers,” Hermione toasted.

Draco raised his glass, clinked it with hers, and then downed the shot, savoring the slow burn that spread throughout his body.

“Her name was Astoria Greengrass,” Draco started, refilling the glasses. “She was a year behind us in school. I knew of her family from various social events over the years, but never really interacted with her. I ran into her about a year after the war and we started dating.”

He quickly downed his second shot and Hermione followed suit. When he went to refill again, she waved him off and he set the bottle aside.

“I fell pretty hard for her. She seemed like the perfect woman- great sense of humor, didn’t put much stock in her pureblood status, knew how to have a good time, amazing in bed, and she seemed just as enamored with me as I was with her. We dated about a year and I decided I was ready to take the next step.”

“Draco Malfoy actually wanted to settle down with a woman?”

“We all have our moments of weakness.”

“So, what happened when you proposed?”

Draco gestured to the empty flat. “I think it’s clear that I’m not hiding a wife anywhere.”

“You know what I mean, smartass. Did she say yes and eventually broke the engagement, or give you an outright no?”

Draco pursed his lips and said, “She laughed.”

“Laughed?”

“She laughed for a full minute. Fool that I am, I thought she was just in shock and didn’t know how to react. When she finally composed herself, she let me know how foolish I was, exclaiming that she couldn’t believe that I was actually serious about the relationship. Turns out she was dating two other guys while she was seeing me. She very kindly informed me that while I was a lot of fun, I wasn’t the kind of guy you could spend your life with.”

“Wow. What a bitch.”

Draco laughed and poured himself one last shot of tequila. “It hurt at first, but honestly she did me a favor. Saved me a lot of time by showing me that I’m just not cut out for intimate relationships. It makes life a lot easier.”

Hermione sat and studied him for a moment before grabbing the bottle of tequila and taking a swig. “I don’t buy it,” she declared, swiping her arm across her mouth.

“Easy there, love,” Draco said, coaxing the bottle out of her hand. “Don’t buy what?”

“I don’t think you’re satisfied with your life of sleeping around,” Hermione explained. “You’ve bought into the lie of one silly bint, letting her dictate the rest of your life. You’ve closed yourself off to the possibility of love based off one cow’s opinion.”

“Fuck, you sound like my mother now,” Draco groaned.

“Is that a compliment?” Hermione asked, a worried look crossing her face. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Give me back the tequila.”

“Pretty sure you’ve had enough.”

“Please! It’s dulling the pounding in my head.”

Draco smirked and poured her one last shot. “I do enjoy hearing you beg.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and gulped the shot. “You’re an idiot, Malfoy.”

“You’ve informed me of this several times in the last few weeks.”

“Then stop being an idiot!”

Draco laughed and said, “If I agree to try, can I go back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, smiling at him. “I really hope you do try.”

Draco stood and before he could stop himself, leaned over and kissed her forehead. He lingered for the briefest moment, breathing in the scent of jasmine from her hair.

“Goodnight, Granger,” he whispered. He turned and started for the bedroom.

“Hey,” Hermione called. He looked back at her and she pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders once more. “Thank you.”

Draco nodded and continued to his room. He collapsed onto the bed and dragged his hands down his face. What had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait between chapters. The baby is here! He's perfect and adorable and we're all doing wonderful. Life is just chaotic at the moment because we also just completed a big move to a new city. So we're living out the fun of unpacking and organizing! But thank you for sticking with my story and all the encouraging comments!


	13. Chapter 13

As good as it felt to finally bare her soul to someone, the night left Hermione even more confused and anxiety-ridden than when it had started. It was hard for her to shake off the panic attack from hearing the late night car accident. The sudden rush of adrenaline had shocked her system into consciousness and it didn’t appear to want to let up. After Draco had gone back to bed, Hermione wrapped herself in the blanket and laid down on the sofa, her mind buzzing with a billion thoughts.

Damnit! Why had he kissed her like that? Why couldn’t he just have gone to bed? It’s not that she preferred Prat Draco to Sweet Draco, but Prat Draco made life a lot easier. Things were cut and dry with Prat Draco. Sweet Draco blurred the line they had drawn on the boundaries their relationship would stick to. Damnit! Why had he kissed her like that?!

Hermione closed her eyes and felt as though she had split in two; like she was staring at her reflection in the mirror. Except... it wasn’t her exact reflection. Hermione knew for a fact that she was standing there in her undergarments, hair in disarray, eyes bloodshot and wild. The girl staring back at her was calm and put together-- fully dressed, in what appeared to be her old school robes, expression free from tension, a knowing smile on her face.

“Who are you?” Hermione asked.

“You,” the reflection answered simply.

“No, I’m me,” Hermione protested.

“You’re Hysterical Hermione. I’m Logical Hermione. I control your rational side. Have you forgotten about me?”

“No, of course not. What do you want?”

Logical Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “I want you to calm down and let me take over for a while. It’s time you start thinking straight again and stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m not lying to myself! I might be a bit hysterical now, but it’s for a good reason. You’re usually the one in control. Just bugger off and sort out my thoughts, okay?”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Logical Hermione closed her eyes and massaged her temples as if trying to push back a headache. “Why must we be so stubborn...” she muttered. “Okay, let’s talk this through, Double H.”

“Double H?”

“Hysterical Hermione. Stay focused,” the reflection demanded. “He’s kissed you before. Why are you so upset about this one? Honestly, it was pretty boring compared to all the others”

“Because he’s never kissed me like that before!” Hermione exclaimed. “All the other kisses have been a form of foreplay. Sex was always the end game. That kiss had comfort and compassion and….and it had meaning.”

“Did it?” Logical Hermione asked.

“It felt like it did,” Hermione replied meekly.

“Okay, _if_ it did, is that good or bad?”

“G-goo-” Hermione stuttered. She stomped her feet and shook her head. “Bad! It’s bad!”

“Why? Because of Ron? Because you live in another country? Because of the negative history you have with Draco? Because admitting it’s good means you have to put yourself out there and risk being hurt more?”

“All of that! And mostly because he’s Draco Malfoy.”

“Yes, but he’s also not Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione let out a frustrated cry. “For someone who is supposed to be logical, you’re a very infuriating person!”

“Yes, logic can be infuriating,” Logical Hermione stated, matter of factly.

“Where are you going with all of this? What’s the point?” Hermione asked wearily.

“My point is to just acknowledge that this isn’t the Draco Malfoy you used to know. He’s changed, and for the better. Well, mostly for the better. Admit to yourself that you have more than just sexual feelings for him, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he might feel the same for you.”

“Pretty sure he made it crystal clear tonight that he’s shut that part of himself down.”

“Granger,” the reflection called.

“What?”

“Granger!” the reflection yelled.

“What?” Hermione yelled back.

“Granger!”

Hermione’s eyes flew open and she was face to face with Draco, who was bent over her, his hands on her bare shoulders.

“Draco?” she whispered, the sunlight chasing away her sleep and bringing him and the room into focus. Draco stared at her, his silver eyes searching hers. “What’s wrong?”

He quickly pulled his hands off her shoulders and stood back. Hermione sat up, keeping the blanket wrapped around her half-naked body. She suddenly felt overexposed and a need for modesty set it.

“You called me Draco. It confused me for a second,” he explained. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me anything other than Malfoy, even when we were in school.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hermione apologized. She immediately felt stupid. Why would she apologize for using a person’s name?

Apparently, Draco thought so too.

“That’s a stupid thing to apologize for.” He leaned over and set clothes on the sofa, beside her. “You were muttering in your sleep and it seemed intense. I was worried. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, weird dream,” Hermione said, pulling her shorts on. She didn’t want to go into detail. He seemed to pick up on the vibe and nodded. When she went to put on the shirt, she paused and held it up. “This isn’t mine.”

“Yours was beyond repair,” Draco admitted, failing to hide a victorious grin. “I want to say I’m sorry--”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“So, who’s is this?” It made Hermione want to kick herself to acknowledge it, but she really didn’t want to wear his ex’s clothes.

“Mine. Who else would it belong to?”

“You own t-shirts?”

“Honestly, Granger--”

“That’s not my name,” Hermione interrupted.

Draco stared at her confusedly for a moment, before asking, “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Hermione said, quickly throwing the grey shirt on and standing up. “I’m sorry.”

She started frantically searching around the room for her wand, becoming increasingly agitated when she couldn’t find it. All she wanted to do at the moment was get out of this flat and put as much distance as she could between herself and Draco. Hysterical Hermione was not only in control, she had locked Logical Hermione in a closet and thrown the key into the Black Lake.

“Why do you keep apologizing for doing nothing? What’s wrong?” Draco reached out and snagged her by her wrist, halting her frenzy. “Hermione!”

At the sound of her name, Hermione stopped and slowly looked up at the source of her frenetic energy. The usual steeliness of his eyes had melted into a soft, ashen hue, like clouds at the onset of a storm. They were full of concern as he tugged her to him, holding up her wand in his other hand.

With a feathery touch, Draco coaxed her clenched fist open and placed the wand in her hand. As he closed her fingers back around the bit of vine, Hermione felt the barriers she had been building up between them crumble. Tired of fighting against the tide, she reached up, grabbed him by the shoulder, and dragged him forward until she could capture his lips with hers.

If Draco was at all surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer, until she swore she could feel his heart pounding against hers.

It was slow and sensual, full of need and unspoken longing. It was a kiss unlike any Hermione had had before and she poured everything she had into it, fearing it may be a once in a lifetime chance.

For a full minute, she was blissfully ignorant of her reality. All past and future worries were pushed from her mind. It wasn’t until Draco’s hands started to slide from her waist to her backside that it all came careening back.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Hermione mumbled against his lips, breaking the kiss. Hysteria set in once more and she shoved herself away from Draco, leaving him staring at her bemusedly.

“I don’t--”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione repeated, rushing to the door. “I’m so sorry.”

She slammed the door shut and disappeared with a crack.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

 

Hermione watched the minutes tick by on the mantle clock. She was sat on the edge of the sofa, her legs nervously bouncing in anticipation of Ron’s arrival. Her hands clutched a faded envelope and she ran her thumb over the well-worn fold in the middle.

Harry and Ginny had left at five o’clock, just as Hermione was sliding brussel sprouts into the oven, alongside her shepherd’s pie. Harry had lingered at the floo, staring at her until Ginny pulled him into the flames with her.

The buzz of the oven timer made her leap up. She tucked the envelope into her back pocket and dashed to the kitchen to start pulling out the pans of food. The smell of the shepherd’s pie made her nose wrinkle. It wasn’t Hermione’s favorite dish, but it was one of Ron’s. The whoosh of the floo sounded just as she was setting plates on the table.

Ron entered the kitchen with a confused look on his face. He sniffed and asked, “Shepherd’s pie? What are you feeling guilty about?” His chuckle faded quickly when he saw that Hermione wasn’t sharing in his laughter. “It’s just I know it’s not something you’re overly fond of. So, what’s up? What did you want to talk about?”

He took a seat at the table and Hermione started dishing out the food. When she spooned brussel sprouts onto his plate, he made a slight retching noise.

“I promise you’ll like my brussel sprouts. It’s one thing I can say, with confidence, that I cook better than your mother,” Hermione insisted. She held up a bottle of Merlot. “Glass of wine?”

“Nah, just a Butterbeer, thanks. Red wine g--”

“Gives you a headache,” Hermione finished in unison with him. She nodded and said, “I knew that. Butterbeer it is.” She summoned a bottle from the icebox and it landed beside his plate.

As Ron tucked into his shepherd’s pie, Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and then proceeded to down it in one gulp.

“ ‘Mione, what’s wrong?” He hadn’t quite swallowed his first bite and ended up spraying bits of potato across the table. “Shit, sorry.” He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and asked again, “What’s wrong? You look like someone pissed in your chips.”

Hermione poured more wine into her glass, but just stared at it, trying to figure out where to begin.

“Hermione?”

“Do you remember our last night together, before I left for New York?”

“Vividly,” Ron answered. He set his fork and knife down and said, “You came over to the flat to pick up the last of your things. You had asked me not to be there, but, in true Ron Weasley fashion, I didn’t listen and was waiting for you. We started arguing and you called me a ‘selfish, paranoid bellend, that would never be able to commit to anyone until I pulled my head out of my arse’. As was tradition, our yelling led to angry shagging, which led to more yelling. The last time I saw you was when you activated the floo and pushed me through, sending me to The Burrow and locking me out.”

“Merlin, our neighbors must have hated us,” Hermione muttered, taking a sip of wine. Ron looked at her, waiting for her to explain why she was insisting on dredging up their past. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze. Pretending to be interested in her dinner, she picked up her fork and started poking at her pie.

“Hermione.”

She finally looked up when his hand reached across and covered hers.

“Talk to me, please.”

With a deep breath, she finally admitted what she had spent almost three years running from.

“That night of shagging ended up producing more than just another fight,” Hermione confessed, her voice low and strained. She fought against the tears that were building up and pressed on. “I didn’t know it when I left, but I was pregnant.”

Ron let out a slow breath and sat back in his chair.

“We have a kid?” he whispered.

Hermione swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and shook her head.

“Had,” she croaked, losing the fight against her tears.

He didn’t say anything in response and Hermione launched into the details of her struggles after leaving England. Unable to stay sitting, she started pacing the kitchen as she spoke, avoiding Ron’s stare. By the end, she was hunched over the sink, trying not to hyperventilate. When she finally turned around, Ron was still seated, silently watching her.

“Say something, please,” Hermione chokingly sobbed. “Anything. Yell, scream, curse me for eternity! Just, please, say something.”

He slowly stood and approached her. She held her breath, worried that he was going to throw something, punch the wall, or just walk out on her. Looking up at him, she was taken aback to see tears running down his cheeks. She had only witnessed him cry one other time and that had been at Fred’s funeral.

“I love you,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around Hermione. He pulled her close and held her tight.

“Why would you say that?” Her wails were muffled as she cried into his shirt. “You’re supposed to hate me!”

Ron let out a morose chuckle as he stroked her hair.

“I’ve always loved you. I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through.”

Hermione pushed away and looked into his watery sapphire eyes.

“Why would you be sorry?”

“The last night we were together, everything you said was true. Here, let’s get some fresh air.” He guided her out to the back patio and they squeezed together so that they could sit side by side, on a lounge chair.

“I was a paranoid, selfish prat and I let my insecurities sabotage our relationship. I was right about one thing though.”

“What was that?” she asked.

“You were too good for me. Way out of my league.” He gave her hands a squeeze and frowned. “I never meant to put you through hell though. I really was so up my own arse I couldn’t see how much of a prick I was until it was too late.”

“Don’t blame yourself for my insanity,” Hermione murmured, shaking her head. “I should have told you about everything right away. Things could have been so different, but I was just so scared.”

“It’s not like you didn’t have any reason to be scared. You were on your own, in a new country, pregnant.”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s no excuse! I should have told you. I should have come back home as soon as I knew. If I had done all that, she would still be here!” Her breathing sped up again. “We’d have a beautiful little girl, tailing after her cousins, with bouncy red curls, and--”

“Hermione, stop!” Ron yelled, jumping off the chair.

Hermione let out a surprised yelp and recoiled. Despite his loud tone, Ron’s face was soft as he knelt down in front of her.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself and just listen to me for a moment,” he pleaded, holding on to her hands. “All of these could’ve, should’ve, would’ves aren’t going to change what has happened.”

“But--”

“Hermione, sometimes horrible things happen to the best people. What would have happened if you did come right back here?”

“I--we--we would--,” Hermione stuttered, taken aback by his question.

“We would hate each other,” Ron finished. “You would be bitter and resentful for having to return and we’d be fighting even more than when we were together. We would have made each other’s lives miserable, and everybody else’s that came in contact with us.”

Hermione stared at Ron, horrified at what he seemed to be implying.

“Are you seriously saying--”

“No, I’m not. I wish…” Ron trailed off, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I wish I would have known. I wish I could have seen her. But, most of all, I wish I could have been there for you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he reassured, smoothing her hair down.

“I have something to show you.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the envelope. She handed it to Ron, saying, “I received this a few weeks after leaving the hospital.”

Ron moved back to the chair and pulled out a piece of paper and a second, smaller envelope, that was pale pink in color. He silently started to read the letter that Hermione had long ago committed to memory

 

Dear Miss Granger,

 

I was one of the nurses on staff the day you were brought to the hospital. My heart has been aching for you ever since. I am sure you don’t remember me, as there were many of us rushing about, but you and your beautiful daughter have been on my mind since that day.

You see, on that same day, my daughter had just had her first baby and I was meeting my granddaughter. Our visit got cut short when I was paged to come assist with your labor and delivery. I have been a nurse for many years and have witnessed parents leaving the hospital without a baby in their arms more times than any one person should. Each one shatters your heart into a million pieces.

My heart broke into a billion pieces as I watched you cuddle your little angel, and I realized how tragic it was that your hazy memories would be the only thing you got to leave with. I know it goes against protocol, but I couldn’t let that be all you were left with. So, I snapped a few pictures, promising myself that I would find a way to get them to you.

I’ve enclosed them in a separate envelope, that way you can look at them if and when you’re ready. I know the past few weeks have been hard for you and the coming days don’t look much better, but they will. There is a light at the end of your tunnel.

 

Sincerely,

Sally Williams

 

Ron folded the letter back up and looked at the pink envelope. He stared at it, turning it over as if to open it, but then flipping it back.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to see them,” Hermione said. “It took a year before I was finally able to.”

“No, I want to,” Ron said quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting to be able to see her.”

Slowly, he opened the pink envelope and took out the three still photographs. Two showed Hermione cradling the baby girl, wrapped in pink and white blankets. The last picture was a closeup of the sleeping baby. Hermione could remember telling the nurses not to put a hat on her so that she could admire the soft, fluffy tufts of red hair.

“What--” Ron started, but his voice cut off. He brought his hand up and roughly scrubbed at his face. Tears were freely flowing down his cheeks again. He found his voice and spoke again. “What’s her name?”

Hermione looked up, into his eyes, and for the first time in years _her_ Ron stared back. The kind-hearted, caring man she had fallen in love with a lifetime ago. Though it had changed, the love was still there and she knew at that moment that they would be okay.

“Molly Katherine,” Hermione answered, running a fingertip along the side of the baby’s picture.

“She’s beautiful. Exactly like her mum,” Ron said, smiling down at Hermione.

“Can’t escape that Weasley hair though.”

Ron chuckled. “It’s a blessing and a curse.” He wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. I know it was hard for you, but I’m glad you don’t have to keep carrying the burden alone.”

“Can I see those for a moment?” Hermione asked, nodding at the pictures. Ron passed them to her and she pulled out her wand. With a wave and a tap on each one, exact copies were made. She tucked a set into the pink envelope and handed it back to Ron. “One day I’ll regain that Gryffindor courage and tell my parents about it all, but please don’t think you have to keep anything from yours. She’s part of you and you should be able to share her with people.”

“Thank you.” He rested his head against hers and slipped the pictures into his shirt pocket. “I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you too, Ron.”

 

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

Later that evening, the two sat in front of the fire and Hermione tried to explain the dessert she had chosen while they waited for Harry and Ginny to return.

“What are these called, again?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had lost count of how many times Ron had asked the same question.

“S’mores. Suh-moors,” Hermione answered, slowly sounding it out for him. “Once your marshmallow is toasted to your satisfaction, lay it on top of the graham cracker and chocolate, then top it off with another graham cracker.” Ron gave her a look of doubt and Hermione laughed. “I promise you’ll like it.”

“How do I know when the marshmallow is ready?”

“Usually when it’s on fire, that’s a good sign that it’s done.” Hermione grabbed his hand, pulling it and the stick away from the fire. The gooey treat on the end was completely charred and slowly melting off the stick. Hermione quickly vanished the marshmallow before it could hit the carpet. “Here, use mine.”

Hermione laid her evenly toasted marshmallow on the tray and assembled the s’more, handing the finished product to Ron. He nibbled off a corner and chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds before shoving the rest into his mouth. “Where did you learn to make these?” he asked through puffed cheeks.

“Lizzie insisted on taking me camping one summer with her family. I think her family is just as chaotic as yours, except instead of brothers, she has 5 sisters. They don’t always get along so I spent a good deal of that weekend in the cabin, behind a book, so I didn’t have to play referee.”

“Harry’s mentioned her before,” Ron commented, sliding a fresh marshmallow onto his roasting stick. “She’s a witch, right?”

“Yeah, she works for MACUSA too. That’s how we met. She’s hilarious, very blunt and honest with everyone.” Hermione paused for a moment, thinking about her friend back in New York. “I bet you two would actually get along quite well.”

“Never thought my ex-wife would be trying to set me up,” Ron chuckled. He put his stick right back into the flame and Hermione nudged his hand up so that the marshmallow was just above the fire. “Speaking of, I wanted to let you know that I don’t mind if you want to date Malfoy. Not that you need my permission,” he quickly added. “But if that’s what you choose, I will keep my ferrety comments to myself.”

“Oh, well that’s very kind of you, but I’m not dating M--Draco. Our relationship is not a romantic one.” Hermione put together her own s’more and sat back against the couch to enjoy it, unlike her companion who unhinged his jaw and swallowed them whole.

“Have you enlightened yourselves to that fact?”

Hermione’s face flushed. Merlin, how obvious was she if Ron noticed?

“Ha, ha. I think you’ve been working in that joke shop too long. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not really in the right state of mind to date anyone, let alone Draco Malfoy. And Draco has made it quite clear from the beginning that he is definitely not looking for a relationship.”

Ron laughed as he downed what had to be his third s’more.

“Circe, I would love to have your metabolism,” Hermione muttered, licking a speck of chocolate off her thumb. “If I ate three of these things, I’d have to go buy new jeans.”

“Bollocks,” Ron said. He reached over and swiped his finger over her nose. “Marshmallow,” he explained, and licked his finger.

Hermione wasn’t sure why, but the intimate interaction made her giggle and she was unable to stop. Ron tried to look annoyed, but within a minute he was laughing right along with her. And that’s how Harry and Ginny found them when they stepped out of the fireplace five minutes later.

“Harry, did you accidentally floo us to an alternate universe?” Ginny asked, clutching her fiance’s arm.

“Don’t make any sudden movements, darling. We might spook them,” Harry whispered loudly.

Hermione chucked a marshmallow at Harry. It bounced off his head and Ginny caught it in her mouth.

“What are we eating?” Ginny asked, plunking herself down on Hermione’s other side.

“S’mores,” Hermione answered, handing a roasting stick to her.

“Gesundheit,” Harry said, settling into an armchair.

“Too good to sit on the floor the with the rest of us, Potter?” Ron chided.

“I’ve eaten so much, I’m afraid if I get down there, I won’t be able to get back up,” Harry groaned. He looked over at Ginny, who was shoving a second marshmallow in her mouth. “Are you seriously eating again? We literally just had dessert?”

“Wha?” Ginny asked, the spitting image of her brother with her puffed up cheeks. “I don’t want to be rude and not at least try what Hermione worked so hard to make.

Hermione just shook her head at the parchment-thin excuse. She knew the baby was throwing Ginny’s cravings into overdrive, though it seemed that her ‘cravings’ encompassed anything and everything.

“There’s also shepherd's pie and brussel sprouts leftover from dinner,” Hermione informed.

“That shall be my midnight snack then,” Ginny declared, accepting the freshly made s’more Ron handed her.

“Just please brush your teeth before coming back to bed,” Harry said, moving to the floor beside Ron. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Harry ignored her and broke off a piece of chocolate. “I see you two are getting along again. I take it the talk went well?”

“We should tell them,” Ron said, gently nudging Hermione with his elbow.

Hermione nodded and slowly started to tell Harry and Ginny about her first few months in New York. By the end of it, Ginny was in her lap, hugging her tight and crying.

“Why didn’t you tell us you silly witch?” she sobbed into Hermione’s shoulder. “I’ve been going on and on about the baby all month and you’ve been silently dealing with this?”

“Baby? What baby?” Ron asked.

Ginny ignored him and continued crying, “You know we all would have helped you with whatever you needed.”

“What baby?” Ron repeated.

Ginny turned to her brother and snapped, “I’m pregnant. Don’t tell mom.” She quickly added, “Or anyone else. We’ll tell everyone after the wedding. Can you keep your gob shut for a few more days.”

Ron recoiled under his sister’s death stare and nodded. He turned to and said, “Congratulations, mate, and good luck with her.”

Harry just smiled.

“You alright, Harry?” Hermione asked as she rubbed Ginny’s back.

“Yeah. This,” Harry said, gesturing to the others. “This is nice. Our gang has finally reunited.”

“I told Hermione she should look into bringing another into the group,” Ron said, provoking a glare from Hermione.

“I just started to like you again, Ronald. Why do you insist on rocking the boat?”

“Back me up, Harry. Are her and Draco not blatantly flirting with each other every moment they’re together?”

“The way I’ve heard it, that’s not all they do when they’re together,” Harry replied, arching an eyebrow.

“See! I told you!” Ginny cried, jumping from Hermione’s lap. “You’re far from just another nameless shag.”

“Ahh, well I’m glad he’ll remember my name when he moves onto his other conquests next week.” Hermione stood and gathered all the food onto the tray and took it to the kitchen. Harry followed her.

“He told you about Tori?”

“Yeah. I had already figured out that he had gotten burned, I just never imagined it would have been in such a save way.”

“You told him about the baby?”

Hermione froze, thinking about how she should answer. She felt guilty for telling Draco about it all before she had told any of her closest friends, but she had needed to talk to someone about it at that moment and for some reason, beyond explanation, she trusted him to listen and not judge.

“It’s okay that you did,” Harry assured her, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m more trying to make the point that you shouldn’t completely write him off.”

Hermione sighed and tossed the leftover chocolate into the icebox.

“I don’t completely write him off. I’m sure if he got over that insecurity, Draco Malfoy would be a decent boyfriend, possibly even husband, one day. But I’m not the one.”

“Min, you deserve to be happy with someone. Strangely enough, I think Draco actually makes you happy.”

She couldn’t deny that there was a piece of her that did light up when she was around him. The last kiss they shared was still replaying over and over in her head and she desperately wanted another. It was certain, though, that the feelings she had were not shared, and she had come to terms with that fact. What she had told Ron was true; she wasn’t in the right emotional state to be involved with anyone. And Draco had his own issues to work through before he would ever be able to fully commit to another person.

“I am happy, Harry. For the first time, in a long time, I feel content. I’ve got my best friend back, and my other two best friends are about to get married. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so unburdened.” Hermione smiled at Harry and took one of his hands into hers. “There was a time that I didn’t think that would ever be possible again. I’m sorry that I let this push me away from everyone, but I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Draco has been a huge, unexpected help in getting me to this night, and I will be forever thankful for that. But that’s all it can be. I have to focus on me right now.”

“Wise beyond your years, as always Miss Granger.” Harry leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Glad we won’t have to wait another three years to get you back here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m already planning my break to be able to be here when that baby comes along. Watching you two adjust to parenthood is going to be a must-see event!”

“You’re going to talk to us though, right? No more keeping soul-crushing secrets to yourself. Let us in, Granger, so we don’t have to come knock down the bloody doors.”

Hermione laughed, giving him a playful shove. “I promise. Can you do a favor for me?”

“What’s that?”

“Take care of Draco. He really has come a long way since Hogwarts and deserves more than what that tramp left him with.”

“Are you saying that you care about Draco Malfoy?”

“Fine, yes! I care about the twat! Is that what you want to hear?” Hermione admitted in exasperation. “He should be with someone that actually gives a shit about him and makes him happy. And if you tell him I said that I’ll make sure your first child is your only child.”

“There’s the Hermione we know and love.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Is there any dance you can’t do, Mr. Malfoy?” Miranda gushed, as the final notes of the Tango faded.

“Draco, please,” Draco insisted, forcing a smile. “And there aren’t many I don’t know. One of the few positive results of a stuffy, pureblood upbringing.”

“It’s no wonder you’ve been able to sweep Hermione off her feet.” The dance instructor reached over and slowly ran her hand down Draco’s arm. “If you ever find yourself in need of a new dance partner, you know where to find me.” With a quick wink, she walked off to talk to Harry and Ginny.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief and went to grab his coat. He was able to slip out of the studio before any else could make a fuss over him.

Before heading back to his flat, Draco took a stroll through the town to clear his head. Hermione hadn’t come to the final dance lesson and the instructor had quickly offered to be his partner. She had been more than a little forward in letting him know her interests included more than just dancing.

Miranda wasn’t a bad looking woman, but there was something about her that reminded him of his former Transfiguration professor and he couldn’t quite get past that. There was also the fact that she assumed Hermione was his girlfriend, yet took every opportunity to openly flirt with him as soon as Hermione wasn’t there. He didn’t have many deal breakers, but doppelganger professors and wannabe-mistresses were definitely on the list.

This was the one day of the year he wanted to lock himself in his flat and avoid contact with everyone. His mother had extended her usual dinner invite and he had, as usual, declined, which would result in her annual delivery of a letter full of guilt and a bottle of Firewhiskey.

He had thought about skipping the dance class again, but didn’t want to leave Hermione partnerless for another class. Plus, he didn’t want Harry and Ginny to think he was neglecting his best man duties.

Since Hermione had shared her story, Draco was confused about how worried he was about her. It was quite the secret to have kept and, while he hadn’t said it that night, he was also anxious about how Weasley would respond to it. Ron had been at the studio, but appeared subdued and didn’t talk much, except to Harry. When Draco had asked Ginny about Hermione, she had given him a sweet, sympathetic smile and assured him that Hermione was fine. He had not appreciated the pedantic tone that was attached to her reply.

It was natural for him to be concerned, right? No reasonable human being could hear a story like that and not feel something. Fuck! When had he become a _reasonable human being_?

A blur of mocha colored curls hurried past and before Draco could stop himself, he called out, “Hermione!”

Luckily the owner of the curls didn’t hear him because it certainly wasn’t Hermione dashing into the arms of a bloke with long, raven hair.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Draco muttered, running a hand over his face. He ducked into an alcove and quickly apparated home before he could make more of a public fool of himself.

But when he arrived back at his flat, he was met with the sight of Hermione’s shoes and purse. She had left so quickly after their kiss that she had left it all behind. He had been hoping she’d return for it, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to pick up right where they left off.

Son of Salazar, that kiss! He had not been expecting it and he couldn’t shake it from his mind or body. He’d had no intentions of ending it and stood dazed in his living room for quite some time after Hermione had left, before retreating to the shower. He had been hoping a wank would help him forget and realign his thoughts. It hadn’t.

Draco picked up the purse and sneakers with a sigh. He’d floo to Harry and Ginny’s and just leave the stuff with them. They could make sure Hermione was reunited with her things. Maybe if he kept himself free of her for another day, he’d be able to shake her from his system and get back to normal. Or he’d go through withdraw, like some sort of addict, begging for just one more hit...

Stepping out of the fireplace, Draco was faced with an empty living room and kitchen. Harry and Ginny must have seized on the alone time and gone for a late dinner.

“Leave them on the table,” Draco muttered to himself, moving towards the kitchen table. “Put them down and leave. She’ll find them.”

But he could hear Hermione’s footsteps above him, walking back and forth, opening and closing the closet door. The knowledge of her presence was like a magnetic pull and Draco found himself turning away from the table and making his way to the stairs. He paused at the door to the guest bedroom. It was slightly ajar, letting a strip of light illuminate the dim hallway. From the room, he could hear Hermione singing to herself.

“Tender is the night, lying by your side. Tender is the touch of someone that you love too much. Tender is my heart you know, I'm screwing up my life. Oh lord, I need to find, someone who can heal my mind.”

Draco didn’t know the song, but Hermione’s soft singing made him want to. He gave the door two gentle knocks and waited until she called, “Come in,” before slowly pushing it open.

Hermione was standing between the closet door and an open suitcase on the bed. She glanced up from the shirt she was folding and froze for a second as she watched Draco walk in and hold up the things she had left behind.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed, tossing the shirt into the suitcase and walking over to meet him. She tossed the shoes at the foot of the bed but clutched her purse to her chest. “I’ve been tearing the house apart looking for this!”

“I thought about bringing it by yesterday, but I didn’t want to interrupt anything,” Draco explained. Without anything in his hands, he suddenly felt awkward and shoved them into his pockets, shuffling his feet while he surveyed the room. “Packing already?”

“It’s the only time I have between now and Sunday when I’m not busy with wedding stuff. Here, sorry, sit down,” she said quickly, lifting her suitcase off the bed and setting it on the floor.

“I don’t want to distract you and waste your packing time,” Draco said, moving for the door.

“Nonsense, sit,” Hermione said, motioning to the bed. “It’s actually nice to finally have some company. Plus, I’m almost finished.” She turned back to the closet and pulled another shirt from a hanger. Draco slipped his shoes off and sat down on the bed. “I assume you got your invite for tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah. What’s going on? It’s the vaguest invitation I’ve ever received. Dress casually and be in Potter’s kitchen by five?”

“What’s so vague about that?”

Draco chuckled and shook his head. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Hermione answered, closing the closet door and moving to the dresser. “I will say that it is all Ginny’s doing. I’m just helping with the setup.” She opened the top drawer and pulled out a few pairs of panties. “Oh! I almost forgot. I have something for you.” She tossed the panties into her suitcase, hastily half-shut the drawer, and went back to the closet.

“For me? I haven’t left anything here,” Draco said, puzzled as he watched her stand on tiptoes to reach something in the top corner of the closet.

“I know,” she said, her voice strained as she reached. He was about to offer her help, but she cried out, “Ah ha! Got it.”

Hermione turned around with a large basket in hand, adorned with green and silver ribbons. She sat down on the bed and placed the basket in the middle. It was filled with a cache of sweets from Honeydukes.

“I saw that your secret stash of sweets was running low, so, happy birthday.”

Draco stared at the basket of candy, speechless for the first time in a long some time. So many questions ran through his mind as he gingerly sifted through the assortment of Cauldron Cakes, and Ice Mice, and Chocoballs, and toffees, and just about everything else that was sold in the shop.

“Okay, first off,” Draco said, finding his voice, “you really shouldn’t have and thank you. But, how do you know about my stash of sweets? And, how did you know today’s my birthday?”

“Well, first off, I’m happy to and you’re welcome,” she replied with a grin. “To answer your questions, I’m nosy and have a very good memory. I found your sweets when I went foraging for food in your kitchen, though I’m not sure who you’re hiding them from.”

“From snooping houseguests like you, obviously.”

Hermione laughed. “Touche. As the day approached, I got the feeling that you didn’t really make a big deal of the day, but I thought you should at least get something sweet.”

“My mother tries to make a big deal out of it. I prefer to ignore it and just let it pass.”

He picked up a tin of Crystallized Pineapple and turned it over in his hands. His mother and Potter were the only people that took notice of his birthday anymore and they both came to a reluctant understanding by now that Draco wanted nothing to do with the day. It was odd to now find himself pleased that Hermione was acknowledging the significance of the day.

“I understand,” Hermione said. She inched up the bed and rested her back against the headboard. “Being an only child, my parents loved celebrating my birthday. I’m not very comfortable being the center of attention though, so I never asked for a big party. I was happy enough with the few presents from family and getting to pick a nice place for dinner. These days, I let Liz drag me out for a drink, but that’s all she’s allowed to do.” She rested her head back and turned to Draco with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I started rambling a bit there.”

Draco popped the lid off the tin, plucked out a piece of pineapple, then held out the tin to Hermione.

“I don’t mind,” Draco said, as she gingerly took a sweet. “You still haven’t answered my question though. How did you find out today was my birthday? Potter?”

Hermione shook her head and took a sudden interest in the Crystallized Pineapple.

“Granger?”

She gave him a worried glance, her bottom lip locked under her teeth.

“I’m not going to be upset because you know my birthday. It’s not like it’s privileged information. I’m just surprised that _you_ know it.”

“I know, it’s just…” she trailed off with a heavy sigh. “I remember your birthday because I was helping go through and organize all the files of...of...Death Eaters, right after the war.”

Draco cringed at the words. He could see how much Hermione disliked saying them and he hated hearing them just as much.

“When your family’s trial came up, the files got sent to me to make sure all the information was correct and ready for the lawyers.”

Draco chuckled as he bit off another chunk of pineapple candy. “I hate to resort to childhood habits, but you were shit at that job then. Somehow that file slipped through with my birth year wrong. A very fortunate accident because it helped my mother and I receive less harsh sentencing.”

“It wasn’t a fortunate accident,” Hermione said quietly.

He put back the piece of candy he had just picked up and looked at her skeptically. She was still holding her piece of pineapple and nervously twisting it.

“I changed the year, before your trial,” she admitted before Draco could press her for more information.

“But....why? You hated my family.”

“It...I…” Hermione stumbled over her words. She finally put the sweet in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a minute before resuming her explanation. “I didn’t hate you in the end. During the first few years of school, yes. You were a vile, spoiled, little prat that thought the sun shone out your ass.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it there, sweetheart,” Draco mumbled. He capped the tin and placed it back in the basket.

“Oh, please. You know that that’s exactly what eleven-year-old you were like.” She laughed lightly and turned her head away from him. She stared straight ahead, with a distant look in her eyes. “Sixth year though, the hate had faded. Honestly, I felt sorry for you. It was obvious you weren’t in a good place, but I never believed you were pulled in as deep as you were.”

Draco bowed his head and closed his eyes. He had come to terms with his past transgressions, but the memories would always be there and he wasn’t sure their sting would ever lessen. A soft touch made him force his eyes open and he was surprised to see Hermione’s hand covering his. When he looked up, she was looking at him again, a comforting smile illuminating her face.

“The night we escaped from your manor when you wouldn’t identify who we were even though you knew it was us...that night I knew you weren’t the same pompous git that had strutted through the castle halls. You were just as scared as we were and I could see that you wanted it all to end just as quickly too.”

Draco leaned back against the headboard and stared at the witch beside him.

“Why did you change my birthday?” he whispered.

“To save you from a fate you didn’t deserve,” she answered. “I knew their main arguments against you would be the attempts on Dumbledore’s life. By changing your birth year from nineteen-eighty to eighty-one, it meant that at the time of his death you still weren’t of age. I knew how much your mother wanted to protect you, so I put faith in her being able to think quick and make up a believable reason for why you started Hogwarts a year earlier than everyone else.”

“Yeah, she did. She told them that, with my father’s connections on the board, they were able to admit me early.” Draco sat up a little straighter and looked down at Hermione. “If you didn’t hate me, then why were you so hacked off with me when you first arrived?”

“I wasn’t hacked off at you.” Hermione sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I was a nervous wreck to come back here because I knew I would have to face Ron, so I came with my defenses already built up. With the option of flight gone, I was in fight mode. Then you showed up, instead of Ron, and I had all this pent-up anger that needed to be unleashed. You just happened to be an easy target and right in the line of fire. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

“Well, you’ve since put me in other, more pleasurable positions, so I’d say we’ve reached a pretty civil truce.”

Hermione burst out laughing, making her curls bounce around her face. The laughter was contagious and Draco couldn’t help laughing with her.

“Civil truce,” Hermione repeated as she calmed her giggles. “How many ‘civil truces’ have you made across London?”

He knew her comment was all in jest, but something about hearing Hermione talk about his numerous shags made Draco feel shameful of his past. He never felt that way about his sex life before. Every occasion had been consensual and no one was getting hurt. That’s what this current arrangement was supposed to be- a convenient, consensual fling. So why did he feel like shit now that it was coming to an end?

“You know, I’m sure that dance instructor would be interested in learning about your truces,” Hermione said, bringing Draco back to the conversation. She didn’t seem to notice his lack of engagement on the previous question.

“Yes, she made that quite clear this evening,” Draco said. “If I ever develop a fetish for our Transfiguration teacher then I’ll look her up.”

“You got that vibe too?!” Hermione cried, her face lighting up in amusement. “I had that exact thought the first class.” She moved up a few inches so that she could fall back and rest her head on the pillow. “Sorry I ditched the class tonight. Ginny’s been a bit of a mother hen today and I needed a few quiet moments.”

“Everything go okay last night?” Draco asked. The allure of the basket of sweets took hold and he fished out a chocolate frog.

“Yeah, better than I thought it would. It was difficult, but in the end, I think Ron and I are in a good place. Thanks for listening the other night. It really did help to get it all out before facing him.”

“Happy to help. And I’m glad--”

“Oh!”

Draco was cut short when his chocolate frog took an unexpected leap onto Hermione’s face. She reached up and peeled it off, holding it out to Draco as the chocolate started to harden.

He took it back, breaking a piece off for her. “He must have gotten an extra strong spell. Usually, they’re only able to bounce for a second or two in the box.

Hermione giggled and shook her head. They ate their chocolate in content silence. Once Draco had finished his, he moved the basket to the floor and stretched out on the bed.

“Are you upset that I messed with your file?” Hermione asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hermione, you saved my life. I was prepared to rot half of my years away in Azkaban. Instead, they sentenced me to a few years in the Ministry and my mother to a year of house arrest. It was more than I ever could have hoped for so...thank you.”

Draco paused for a moment and chanced a sideways glance. Hermione’s eyelids were drooping and if he was going to get rid of the weight he’d been carrying around for a month, now was the time. He didn’t know if he’d get her alone again and Merlin knew he wouldn’t say it in front of Harry and Ginny.

“And, I’m sorry,” Draco whispered.

“For what?” Hermione asked, sleepily.

“For all the shit I put you through in school, like that stupid tooth growing hex.”

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “A blessing in disguise. It let me get rid of those horrid buck teeth that my parents insisted ‘gave me character’. As long as we’re apologizing for past transgressions though, I’m sorry I punched you in third year.”

“Don’t be,” Draco said, shooting her a devilish smirk as he tucked his hands under his head. “That’s how I realized I like being smacked around by strong women.”

She let out a sleepy laugh and reached her hand out to him. “All past sins forgiven?”

Draco took her hand and gave it a gentle shake.

“Forgiven.”

He went to pull his hand away, but Hermione didn’t let go. A soft snore signaled that she had already fallen asleep. Draco rolled onto his side and let their hands settle onto the mattress before giving his own tired eyes some respite.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

“Hermione? Are you listening?”

Hermione’s head whipped up at the sound of her best friend shouting her name. She found Ginny standing directly across the table from her, the expression on her face caught somewhere between worried and irritated.

“I’m sorry Gin, I wasn’t,” Hermione admitted with a sigh, pushing her inappropriate Draco daydream to the back of her mind. With a swish of her wand, a silver lid appeared over the platter of sandwich fixings and a tap surrounded it with a cooling charm. “What were you saying?”

“Were you able to get it?” Ginny asked.

“Oh, yes, I put it over with the others. Does Harry have any idea what you’ve set up?”

“Not a clue,” Ginny said, grinning and clutching her hands in front of her. She looked as giddy as a child eyeing up their Christmas gifts. “And is it ever driving him mental! Our special guests should be arriving any moment.”

No sooner had the words left Ginny’s lips when a blue light erupted several meters away. Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, and Dean Thomas had just been portkeyed to midfield of the Holyhead Harpies’ grounds and were striding across the pitch, each one carrying a broomstick and shouting out greetings.

Ginny had had a last minute idea to skip a formal rehearsal dinner and instead surprise her soon-to-be husband with a Quidditch match. Apparently, Harry had been talking a lot lately about missing his Hogwarts Quidditch days. So she had gotten permission to use the Harpies’ stadium and secretly invited several of his old schoolmates to join in.

“Where’s Seamus?” Ginny asked, wrapping Dean in a hug.

“He’s sick and I made him stay home,” Dean explained. “He wanted me to let you know that he wanted to come but his husband is a stubborn bastard and won’t let him have any fun.” Dean sighed and shook his head. “I apologize for being a stubborn bastard, but I didn’t think anyone else needed to witness his vomiting.”

After he and Ginny had broken up, Dean came to a few realizations about who he actually wanted to share his life with. He and Seamus Finnigan married the previous year and were now anxiously awaiting approval to adopt an eight-month-old little boy.

“I think everything is ready,” Luna called, from behind.

Hermione turned back to the table and let her gaze sweep over the potluck dishes adorning it. Molly and Arthur were placing covers on the last few dishes, along with warming or cooling spells. Fleur was blocking Victoire and Freddy from devouring the entire plate of strawberries. Gwenog, Alicia, and Angelina were sat together, polishing their own brooms while they chatted about Quidditch.

“Great! We just need the guys now.” Ginny glanced at her watch. “Five more minutes. Hopefully, they all got their butts to the cottage on time.”

Hermione nervously chewed on her bottom lip. That morning with Draco had been slightly awkward, in that it hadn’t felt awkward at all. She had woken up slowly, still fully clothed, snuggled against his side. Her stirring had roused him awake and he simply pulled her closer as he yawned and stretched his legs.

They had taken their time rolling out of bed and down to the kitchen, not saying much at all, just content with the other’s company. Harry and Ginny came down as they were eating breakfast and, aside from some few curious side-eyed glances, just sat down and joined them for breakfast like it was an everyday, normal occurrence.

Another blue flash in the midfield and seven figures appeared, wobbling slightly before regaining their balance and looking around. Harry finally caught sight of Ginny and jogged over to her, followed by Draco, Charlie, George, Ron, Bill, and Percy.

“What are we doing here?” Harry asked when he reached Ginny.

“We’re going to hold a ceremonial goat sacrifice, to ensure good luck on our wedding day,” Ginny answered. Harry’s face fell, along with the faces of his groomsmen, and Ginny broke out laughing. “What do you think we’re doing, ya goof? We’re gonna play Quidditch!”

“But, we didn’t bring our brooms.”

Ginny pointed to a line of brooms. “Don’t worry, your girls did.”

“Hold up,” Draco said, walking over and picking up his broom. “How did you get mine? I don’t have a...” He trailed off when he saw Hermione give him a little wave. “Sneaky witches,” he muttered.

“You all get so broody when you reminisce about your Quidditch days, so I thought it’d be fun to invite a few other former teammates and have a proper match or two,” Ginny said, motioning to Oliver, Katie, and Dean.

“Brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. He ran over to the former Gryffindors and gave them all hugs. As the old teammates took a few minutes to catch up, Hermione hung back with Gwenog and Luna.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” Gwenog muttered. “That man should go casual more often.”

Hermione stayed quiet, but couldn’t help but silently agree with Gwenog. Draco looked good. Really good. It was the first Hermione had seen him in anything other than his formal work clothes and he wore them well. He had donned a pair of denim trousers, with a snug fitting, white t-shirt. It was simple but quite effective in making Hermione feel like there was an army of fairies fluttering in her stomach.

“Gin,” Gwenog hissed, waving the youngest Weasley over. “When did Draco Malfoy get so hot?” she whispered.

Ginny grinned and looked at Hermione. “When he stopped be a stuck-up prat.”

“He looks quite fine in those jeans.”

“You should talk to Min about how fine he looks _out_ of those jeans.”

“Ginny!” Hermione cried, heat rushing into her cheeks when several faces turned to stare at her.

“Granger, you minx,” Gwenog said approvingly.

“Oh, God,” Hermione groaned. She covered her face with her hands, but not before catching Draco’s wink.

“Are we gonna gossip all night or play?” Ron called.

“Don’t run off after the game, Granger. I have questions that need answering,” Gwenog said before heading over to the group.

“You’re not the only one,” Hermione sighed, following along.

“Alright, let’s start picking teams.” Ginny summoned a box to her feet and pulled out two jerseys- one scarlet and gold, the other green and silver. “Thought we could reignite that old Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry,” she said, throwing Harry and Draco their respective colors. “Choose your squads, captains.”

“Ginevra, you know none of this lot is going to want to be a Slytherin,” Draco said, slipping his jersey on, over his t-shirt

“I’ll join your team, Malfoy,” George announced, walking over to Draco’s side as Ginny threw a green jersey at his head. Draco’s face actually lit up for a brief second when George gave him a friendly thump in the shoulder.

“Right then. Ron, Keeper?” Harry said. Ron nodded and stepped to Harry’s side and caught a scarlet jersey.

“Angelina, would you like to join your husband?” Draco asked.

“You know it. Slytherin me, Gin,” Angelina called.

“That doesn’t sound dirty at all,” Ginny laughed, throwing a jersey to Angelina.

They went back and forth like this for another minute or two until Harry had a full team, which included Charlie and Gwenog as Beaters and Dean, Katie, and Fleur as Chasers. Oliver went on to be Draco’s Keeper, with Bill joining George as the second Beater, and Alicia taking the second Chaser role. Draco was left scouring the crowd, trying to decide on his final Chaser.

“Alright Weaslette, suit up,” Draco said, waving Ginny over. But Ginny didn’t budge.

“I’m not playing. I’m the referee,” she said, shooting Draco a knowing look.

“Right, sorry. Granger, grab a jersey. You’ll have to do.”

Hermione burst out laughing but quickly stopped when Draco crooked his finger at her, beckoning her to his team.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Malfoy, but I don’t play Quidditch. Plus, I’m not exactly wearing appropriate Quidditch attire,” Hermione said, running her hands over the skirt of her dress.

Draco let out a heavy sigh and strolled over to her, grabbing the last green jersey from Ginny on the way. When he reached her, he pulled his wand from his back pocket and pointed it at her. Before Hermione could protest, he had transfigured her floral sundress into a pair of floral Capri leggings, leaving her topless and gobsmacked, while the other guests gasped and quickly turned around or started inspecting their shoelaces.

“Better?” Draco asked.

“No, that’s not better!” Hermione hissed snatching the shirt from his hand and throwing it over her head.

“Should’ve warned me you weren’t wearing a bra.”

“I should’ve--you don’t---why would--arg!” Coherent sentences failed her so she slapped him on the shoulder.

“I regret nothing. Now,” Draco said, summoning a broom. “let’s go.”  
“Seriously, I will drag your team down. You’d be better off with anyone else.”  
“Look who I have left,” Draco said, leaning in and speaking low. “There’s Percy and Luna. I’d be lucky if Lovegood even stayed in the stadium for five minutes before she flew off scouting for Rinkydink Snargalumps. And perfect prefect there would spend the match lecturing us on broom regulations of the United Kingdom. I just need you to fill the seventh position.”

Hermione sighed and finally relented. “Fine, as long as you’re not expecting actual skill from me on the field.”

“Consider my expectations lowered,” he said and started walking off to midfield, with his own broom resting on his shoulder. Hermione rolled her given broom in her hands. Hesitantly, she swung a leg over it and gently sat down. She could feel the magic start to hum under her fingertips and lifted her legs slightly, letting the broom hover in place. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She leaned forward with a confident smile. Her smile lasted a full second before the broom zoomed forward.

Hermione let out a shriek as she flew through the air. She quickly pulled up, but only ended up overcorrecting and falling backward off the broom. She landed on her back, knocking the wind out of her. When Draco’s smirking face appeared above her, she let out a groan.

“When exactly was the last time you flew?” he asked.

“A few years ago,” Hermione mumbled, pushing herself to a sitting position.

“A broom?”

“The dragon, out of Gringotts.”

“Bloody hell, Granger.” Draco held out his hand and helped pull her to her feet. “Maybe I would be better off with Lovegood.”

“Hey, I warned you!”

“Yeah, yeah. Just listen for a moment.” Draco started giving her a rudimentary lesson on controlling the broom and tips on flying smoothly so that she didn’t fall on her arse again. “When in doubt, just fly around the edges of the pitch and stay away from the bludgers. You’ll be fine.”

Hermione had her doubts but didn’t voice them as she followed Draco to midfield where Ginny was waiting with the trunk of balls.

“Captains, shake hands,” Ginny instructed.

Draco reached across and took Harry’s hand. “Scared, Potter?” he said, giving Harry’s hand a shake.

“You wish,” Harry answered, his lips lifting in a cocky grin.

“Players, mount your brooms,” Ginny called, kicking the trunk so that the lid sprang open. She unclasped the smallest door and the tiny, golden Snitch whizzed out. It circled their heads once, before disappearing across the pitch.

“On my whistle. Three, two, one.” Ginny let out a sharp blast of her whistle and everyone kicked off, soaring swiftly and gracefully into the sky as Ginny released the Bludgers.

Hermione was slower to gain altitude, Draco’s instructions running through her mind. She was so intent on practicing her maneuvering that she was completely oblivious of George coming up behind her until he yelled out, “Duck, Min!”

Hermione flattened herself onto the broom as a Bludger roared over her head, with George right behind it. With an effortless swing, he connected and sent the ball screaming to the other side of the pitch.

Following Draco’s advice, she stayed low and off to the sides, watching the action unfold above her. It was actually a comforting sight. The adopted Slytherins were falling into their roles seamlessly, shouting out insults and taunts. At one point, George even started singing a round of Weasley is Our King. Ron was not impressed and once his brother’s back was turned, he kicked the incoming Quaffle straight into the back of George’s head. Ginny was quick to call a foul.

“Foul?! Bollocks!” Ron yelled. “I was only making the save. Not my fault his big head was in the way!”

Ginny wasn’t swayed and Angelina took the foul shot, putting another ten points on the board for their team. Normal play resumed and made Ron only more fierce about protecting his hoops.

“Hermione! Heads up!”

Hermione looked up just in time to see Alicia being surrounded by Dean, Katie, and Fleur, and the Quaffle falling straight towards her. Without thinking, Hermione let go of the broom and caught the odd shaped ball.

“Go, go!” Alicia yelled. The three Chasers had turned away from her and now had their sights set on Hermione.

Leaning forward, Hermione urged her broom forward and dipped a bit lower, setting her sights on the three goals across the pitch. Bill swooped over and aimed a Bludger at her pursuers. Dean splintered off and Fleur yelled something in French but didn’t let up on her chase. Bill laughed and called, “Love you, too!”

The hoops were getting closer and Hermione leaned lower, coaxing the broom to go faster. As if reading her mind, the broomstick picked up the pace and before she knew it, Hermione was circling the base of the hoops. She wasn’t quite sure if there was any logic to her current tactics, but it did seem to do the trick of irritating Ron.

“Give it up Min. You’re not getting it past me.” He continued to hover above her, not daring to go more than a few meters away from the goals.

“How much you want to bet?”

“Are you serious?”

“I bet you two Galleons that I can score a goal,” Hermione taunted, holding the Quaffle above her head. She dipped low as Katie zoomed over her head and then had to change direction from one of George’s well-aimed Bludgers.

“Deal. Easiest gold I’ll ever make.”

Ron dove down. Just as his outstretched hand neared the ball, Hermione tucked it close and shot upwards, like a bullet, and chucked the Quaffle through the center ring. Her fellow teammates erupted in cheers and claps.

“Ron!” Charlie yelled. “Don’t go easy on her!”

“I wasn’t! She deceived me with inexperience!”

“That makes absolutely no sense. Get your head in the game!”

“I expect payment after we win this,” Hermione said before setting off.

Scoring her first goal gave Hermione a new level of comfort on the broomstick. How had she been so apprehensive of this all these years? She rationalized that, back in school, she was so concerned with what her peers would say. The other students already teased her about her hair, and teeth, and for being too smart. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself on a broom and add more fodder for their ridiculing.

But, now, surrounded by friends, that worry was long gone. Even Draco, who had tormented her the most in the past, didn’t care that she had fallen on her arse and had no clue what she was doing. He had simply helped her up and, very kindly, told her what to do.

Soaring through the air, she now knew why Harry had been so fond of flying. There was a serene sense of freedom, flying above everything and only having to really worry about one thing. Far from perfect, Hermione got turned around and confused a few times, but she had fun and was even able to score two more goals, much to her ex-husband’s chagrin.

As she was celebrating a difficult save by Oliver, a glint of gold caught Hermione’s eye. A second later a blur of scarlet and green streaked by. Harry and Draco were simultaneously reaching for the Snitch while shoving each other back and forth. Bill smacked a Bludger towards Harry, but Harry leaned into his rival Seeker and let the Bludger fly past. George reached the Bludger and hit it back. Unfortunately for Harry, his back was turned and George had the same impeccable aim he’d had during his Hogwarts’ days.

The Bludger clipped the handle of Harry’s broom, sending him into a spin and allowing Draco to surge forward and wrap his hand around the Snitch. Ginny blew her whistle, signaling the end of the game, and Draco held the Snitch victoriously over his head.

The hodgepodge of Slytherins circled the pitch in a victory lap and then headed back for the ground. Hermione suddenly became aware that she wasn’t very confident in her stopping ability. She pulled up and the broom jerked, causing her to hastily lean forward again, making the broom zoom ahead.

“Easy, Granger,” Draco shouted from the ground. “Just do a normal descent. Don’t try stopping until you’re lower.”

Hermione took a deep breath and aimed the broom low, starting a gradual descent. As she got closer, she started slowly pulling up again.

“Okay, slow it down,” Draco called, waving her in. “Slow, Granger. Slower…”

Hermione continued to ease herself up, but she hesitated, not wanting to be thrown off the broom again.

“Granger, slow!” Draco shouted. “Hermione! St--”

He never got to finish his command as Hermione crash directly into him. She was flung forward and landed directly on top of Draco.

“I need to practice stopping,” Hermione mumbled into his chest.

“You don’t say,” Draco groaned. “I like being in this position a lot more when we’re both naked.”

“Sweet Godric’s ghost,” Hermione sighed, rolling off Draco and staring up at the fading sunlight. She let out a giggle, which turned into two, and they continued to multiply until she was lying on the grass, laughing hysterically.

“You’ve completely lost the plot,” Draco muttered, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Hermione sat up and caught him staring at her. His lips curved up in a crooked smile and he said, “You should wear green more often. It brings out the hazel flecks in your eyes.”

With that, he jumped to his feet and sauntered off to join the others raiding the table of food. Hermione slumped back against the ground and let out a small, defeated whimper. What was this man doing to her?!

‘One more day,’ she told herself. ‘Get through one more day and your life can go back to normal.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies (again!) for the wait between chapters. I honestly don't have a set schedule that I get to sit down and write between kiddos and real life stuff. School starts tomorrow so once the house recovers from Hurricane Summer, hopefully chapters will come a bit quicker. I can't guarantee, but that's my goal. I just realized with this chapter that I haven't been crediting my songs, so I am gonna work on going back through that and crediting those. The song I used in this chapter was Tender, by Blur, off their album 13.


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